


L is Real 2016: Dies Irae

by ShanaRHager



Category: Super Smash Brothers
Genre: Conspiracies, Don't Mess With Luigi, More Revenge, Multi, Secrets Revealed, Sequel, Smash Ballot Aftermath, This story started going off in different directions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 12:58:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 80
Words: 268,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5627431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShanaRHager/pseuds/ShanaRHager
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Daisy loses her bid to join Smash, Luigi tries to keep to his grudge-free resolution, only to fail when an anti-bullying network and several shocking conspiracies come to light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: 12-15-2015

            The Smash viewing theater was a scene of hustle and bustle.  Veteran Smashers grabbed seats in the front, while most newcomers occupied the upper tier.  They crunched on popcorn, jujubes, candy and other junk and slurped down various fountain drinks, all the while animatedly discussing the upcoming presentation.  Hype swam in the air like a virus, and some Smashers had their fingers crossed.

            This was it, the final Nintendo Direct related to Super Smash Bros.  After today, Master Hand would finally have his official roster.  The Smash Ballot had closed, and today, the winner would be announced.

            Inside the projection room, Master Hand sat, loading the film into the projector as his brother, Crazy Hand, checked the volume settings.  Their father, Master Core, peered through a glass window at the audience crowded in front of the screen, his gaze sweeping the theater like a hawk.

            “Is everything ready?” he asked, distractedly.

            “Yes, Dad,” replied Master.  “The projector works fine.”

            “The SFX looks great,” added Crazy.  “All systems go!”

            “Good,” said MC.  “Go ahead and settle them down, my dear Master Hand.”

            Master leaned into a microphone and began to speak.  “Good afternoon, Smashers.  May I have your attention please?”

            Quiet descended on the theater.

            “Thank you for taking the time to attend this special presentation.  As you know, Nintendo Direct has a very special announcement regarding our official roster.  I’ve heard that two new fighters will round out our cast, one of them the result of the Smash Fighter Ballot.

            “The ideas for this ballot have been quite unique.  Some of them absurd.  And I know some of you who were rooting for some of these choices to make the final cut.  But whoever gets accepted will receive a warm welcome into this tournament, no questions asked.  Do I make myself clear?”

            “Yes, Master Hand.”

            “Please make sure to silence all cell phones and electronic devices.  Locate the nearest exit, so that you may evacuate through it in the case of an emergency.  Talking, horseplay and all forms of saltiness will not be tolerated.  If you must leave while the presentation is in progress, please do so quietly.  Photographing or recording this presentation is strictly prohibited under copyright law.  All violators will be inevitably punished.  Now, without further ado, I present you the final two characters in Super Smash Brothers!”

            As Crazy dimmed the lights, MC floated to Master.  “You ready?” he asked.

            “Always,” replied Master.

            “How about you, dear Crazy?  You ready?”

            “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” said Crazy.

            Master’s index finger hovered over the projector switch.  “I don’t know how he’s going to take this,” he fretted.

            “Neither of us do,” said MC, “but like all things in life, you just have to strap yourself in and hope for the best.  Isn’t that right, my dear Crazy Hand?”

            “BRO!  JUST DO IT!” hollered Crazy.

            “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” muttered MC.

            Master took a deep breath and flicked the switch to ON.  Crazy turned the lights all the way down.  As the screen came to life, the three heads of the Smash tournament narrowed their focus to just one member of the audience.  The one sitting in the front, between a familiar red-clad plumber and the lovely, peachy princess.  The one with so much hope and eagerness brightening his angular, handsome face.  The one who, in just a few minutes, was about to have all of that hope violently torn from him.

            The one, the only, mustachioed man in green.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            First up was a completely unexpected character from a familiar universe.  It was none other than Corrin, from Fire Emblem.  As soon as he and his female counterpart, Corrine, were announced, Marth, Roy, Lucina and the Robin twins went wild, cheering, hooting, clapping each other on the back, hugging and kissing each other and tossing popcorn into the air.  Normally, this would’ve won them a one-way ticket out of the theater, but the commotion was the least of Master Hand’s worries.  He, his brother and their father were riveted on that lovable ghost-hunter, white-gloved hand clasping his brother, impatience beginning to color his visage.  Today was going to be the best day of his life, when all of the pieces finally fell into place, but little did he know—oh, little did he know.

            Ever the crafty one, Master Hand elected to draw out the suspense, keeping his Smashers guessing till the very end.  Once Corrin’s trailer was finished, he announced an intermission.  Some took advantage of this to stretch their legs and use the restroom.  The three final bosses, however, took the time to brace themselves for a wild hurricane wearing an “L” on his head.  He was reclined in his seat, tapping the armrest until his big bro placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him.  Then, the Princess said something to him, and he rose, stepping out of the theater with his hands in his pockets, smiling and saying hello to people as he passed.  The theater had a small room with arcade games and Sandbags, reserved for such a situation, and Master was extremely glad for that room right now.

            Sure enough, the faint sounds of pop music and flurries of blows on a Sandbag reached the projection room.  MC lowered his head and said a short prayer.

            Crazy looked at him.  “I thought you were atheist,” he said.

            “Just covering all the bases,” replied MC.

            “I agree with him.  She would’ve been a lovely addition to Smash, with her tomboy spirit.  She would’ve taken good care of him and her friends,” said Master Hand.

            “And I would’ve loved to hear her say, ‘Hi, I’m Daisy!’,” added Crazy.  “How fun!”

            “If he finds out that we knew well in advance, then he’s going to kill us—again,” sighed Master.  “I’m still aching from the last time.”

            “Me, too,” said MC.  “These old bones can’t take boss battles like they used to.”

            “Me, three,” added Crazy.

            “Best not anticipate the worst too soon,” counseled MC.  “The chances of him finding out that we knew are highly unlikely.”

            “Hope so,” muttered Crazy.  “I don’t want to go through that again!”

            “Don’t be a baby,” grumbled Master.  “It wasn’t that bad, considering.”

            “We kind of deserved it, too,” intoned MC.  “We were so ensnared in the lives of better-known Smashers that we gave his case the benefit of the doubt.  Now let’s not talk about it anymore, shall we?  It’s in the past now, and all we can do is at least help him through _this_.”

            “Amen,” said Master.

            Then, he signaled the ten-minute warning, and the fighters slowly streamed back into the theater.  The Fire Emblem cast was all smiles, each carrying a nice-sized ice-cream cone.  The remaining Kirby representatives sauntered in, Kirby himself loaded with enough goodies to survive an apocalypse, wondering if Magolor, Marx or Bandana Dee would make the cut.  Link, Toon Link and Zelda were anticipating Young Link’s return.  Fox was rooting for his beloved, Krystal, or his rival, Wolf, to be the last fighter.  Falco shared these sentiments, but he also hoped for Peppy and even Slippy, so the whole Star Fox team would fight together.  Pikachu had his heart set on his pre-evolved form, Pichu, who’d been a powerhouse and his confidante during Melee.  Samus bristled at the thought of Ridley being invited—she’d have an excuse to do God-knows-what to that monster—but he was just too big.  Ness missed his old friends, the Ice Climbers, and hoped that they’d make it.  DK hoped that King K. Rool would _not_ win the ballot.  More Smashers sauntered back inside, hopefuls for the likes of Shovel Knight, Shantae and even this ogre who was never in a video game.  There were a few who wanted this Goku person in Smash.  Master had no idea who Goku was.  Rayman, Banjo and Kazookie, Cory—some of these candidates were ridiculous choices.  There were even calls for Paper Mario.  Weren't two Marios enough?  Jeff, Ninten, Paula—okay, those were good choices.  But luckily, the winner wouldn’t be those other outlandish choices.

            The five-minute warning was sounded.

            That was when the pounding noises finally stopped.  The theater was nearly full.  Then, the door swung open, and in stepped Mario, Nintendo’s poster boy, and his Princess, Peach, whose life revolved around getting kidnapped until she could finally get even with said kidnapper in these tournaments.

            Last one to walk in—was _him_.

            He was noticeably—calmer.  Less restless.  Less nervous.  He was breathing heavily, his cap at a jaunty angle, some of his hair flattened against his forehead.  His green shirt was darkened in a few places, and a sweat towel was draped round his neck.  Sitting down in his spot, he wiped his face and neck, took off his hat, combed his fingers through his hair.  He placed the cap back on his head, freshened himself up with some cologne and leaned back in his chair, hands folded in his lap.  Hope continued to encircle him like a halo.

            But not for long.

            Finally, the lights went back down, Master welcomed everyone back and flicked the projector back on.

            “Smashers—I give you the winner of the Smash Ballot!” he announced.

            The screen showed Pit fighting off some enemies and knocking them off the Battlefield.  He boasted over his prowess.  Then, Palutena warmed him not to get too cocky—another enemy was approaching. 

            “Another angel?  I must’ve missed one,” purred a woman’s voice.

            And then, there she was, clad in a striking, skintight uniform, brandishing her pistols.

            The Umbra witch herself.

            Bayonetta.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Master, Crazy and MC did not pay attention to the rest of the trailer.  All they saw was _him_ , the hope on his face slowly draining, dying.  His grip on Mario’s hand slackened.  His mouth fell open in disbelief.  He slumped in his seat as it hit him that the woman he loved wasn’t going to be in Smash after all.  Pit and Pittoo were shrieking their heads off about an angel hunter joining Smash, but the trio shut them out.  _He_ didn’t even move a muscle once the trailer was finished—he just stared at the screen and his eyes were as blank as it.  Only one word came to Master’s mind—numbness.

            “All right, Smashers,” he said into the mike.  “Let’s give a warm round of applause for our Smash Ballot winner, Bayonetta!”

            On those words, the green-clad one seemed to return to life, politely applauding the new addition.  He wasn’t fuming or crying.  Once the applause settled down, Master dismissed everyone, and they exited the theater in various moods, Pit and Pittoo looking like their lives were over as Palutena attempted to comfort them.

            Slowly, Crazy exhaled the breath he’d obviously held the entire time.  MC muttered something about cleaning the stages and departed.  And Master floated there, watching as his Smasher of the Month chatted with Peach and Mario.

            “What do you say we get a banquet ready for them?” he was saying to Peach.

            She said something in agreement, and Mario made an affirmative comment that Master couldn’t make out.  Hand in hand, they walked out of the theater.  Master knew exactly what the plumber in green was doing.

            He was distracting himself, keeping himself busy so it wouldn’t get to him.  Yet eventually, it would.

            Master floated away from the window and sat next to the projector.

            “I’m so sorry, Luigi,” he whispered.  “I’m so, so sorry.”

 


	2. Daisy Has Her Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Comfort smut ahead!

            Princess Daisy of Sarasaland sat on her couch and pointed her remote at her TV.  Great, commercials.  These people were really drawing it out.  Oh, well.  Enough time to fix some snacks.

            Daisy waltzed into her kitchen and fixed herself some nachos.  By the time she set the bowl on the table, the Nintendo Direct was about to come on.  Smiling, she dismissed her servants, telling them that this was something that she needed to experience alone, and the rest of the day was theirs to enjoy.  The servants thanked her and scurried off.

            Settling herself back in front of the TV, Daisy watched as the presentation started.

            She was a gorgeous young lady, this free-spirited Princess of Sarasaland.  Soft, smooth auburn hair cascaded down to her shoulder blades, topped by a glittering tiara.  Her poufy-sleeved dress was the color of sunbeams, a large-round sapphire affixed to her chest.  On her feet were gold high-heels, which she slipped off to liberate her toes.  She was slightly tanned, toned, and athletic, her body the epitome of fit.

            And it was all Luigi’s.

            Daisy let out a dreamy sigh as she imagined herself in the Smash tournament, sharing girly moments with Peach, locking horns with Rosalina ( _eyeroll_ ) and getting the crowd on their feet with the words: “Hi, I’m Daisy!”  She practiced that line and some poses every night before a mirror.  As for her fighting style, Daisy figured that she’d use her skills from those sporting events, as well as from her debut game, _Super Mario Land_.  She’d talked to Tatanga about it, and he suggested that maybe he’d come in handy as her—what did they call it?—Final Smash.   She’d hung up on him before he could demand anything in return.  And she could use her fists and feet, too, both on and off the battlefield, taking care of anyone who dared to harass her man.  She could be his ally in Team Battles.  They could take on the final bosses in Classic Co-op Mode.  They could spar together.  They could spend their spare time catching up on each other’s lives.  They could fill their nights with sweet passion.  They could…

            The TV jolted her out of her thoughts.  Oh, Corrin and Corrine from Fire Emblem have chosen to Smash with their fellow comrades, wasn’t that good news?

            But what she was really waiting for was the result of the Smash Ballot.

            That last spot in Smash was hers for the taking.  Her plumber had vouched for her, even meeting with Mr. Sakurai in person to try and secure a place for her.  Mario, Peach and even Toad had voted for her.  Well, Toad had his heart set more on Toadette than anyone else.  Yoshi and DK had also lent her their support, and she was beyond touched.  Those other candidates stood no chance.  An ogre?  A sitcom star?  An anime hero?  A bandicoot?  Where did those suggestions come from?

            And as always, they had to leave her hanging with a commercial break.

            Her phone chirped.  A text from Luigi had come in.  _This is it.  RU ready?_

            _Yes_ , she typed back.

            _I’ll prob kiss you all over the second you get in_ , he replied.

            _Can’t wait to see you, too.  Bet the others are looking forward to greeting me._

_Oh, yeah!  We’ll be so happy to see you._

_:D_

_I have to go now, Princesa.  Ti amo._

_Love you, too._

            She casually munched on more nachos, dispelling the butterflies in her stomach with a sip of milk.  Her Luigi would be the first one waiting when she got in Smash, smiling and loving, and he’d give her a welcome nobody else would give.  Daisy’s heart thumped as she imagined the numerous methods he had of initiating her into this tournament, all of them private.  She gulped down some more milk to quell her heat.  Best not to think too far ahead.

            Finally, the commercials were over.  The time had come.  Daisy was ready.

            “Smash Brothers, here I come!” she cheered.

            But as soon as the reveal trailer started, she realized that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

            Who was this angel?  Who was this raven-haired woman in a skintight outfit and glasses?  Who was this green-haired Goddess?

            What was going on here?!

            No.  They didn’t have the nerve.  Nobody would dream of doing this to a Princess!

            Bayonetta won the Smash Ballot?!  Bayonetta was preferred over _her_?!

            They liked an Umbra witch more than a headstrong Princess?!

            This couldn’t be!!!!!!!!!!

            As soon as the screen faded to black, the finality of this rejection stabbed into her.  Her face turned red, and she threw her head back and screamed in anger.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Master Hand sat in his office, his mind awhirl.  So far, Luigi had acted normally, helping Peach bake goodies for the party they had in mind.  He wasn’t salty or throwing a fit.  It seemed that he was taking this disappointment in stride.  Then again, his life was full of disappointments.

            But that was off the battlefield.  On the battlefield was a different story.

            His shouting.  His mercilessness.  The determined looks he gave his opponents even when he was on his last stock and over 100%.  His breathtaking victories.  His sweat dripping off of him.  It all sounded eerily familiar.  He escaped a forfeiture by the skin of his teeth, probably by remembering the—incident—six months ago when he was _thisclose_ to never seeing Smash again.  Indeed, it was a lesson he carried around with him, for no matter how aggressive he got, he always held fast to his temper.  And once his matches were over, he smiled politely at his vanquished opponents, shook their hands, embraced some of them and offered them a 1UP mushroom to make up for trouncing them so.  Then, he showered, changed clothes and hung around with his friends, as he always did.

            Crazy Hand had given him a free ticket for Endless Smash anyway, just in case.

            Master sipped a cup of hot tea, feeling it soothe his nerves.  Everything was all right.  Luigi was going to be fine.  He’d gotten through worse than this.

            A gentle knock on the door. “Come in,” Master said briskly.

            The door opened, and Luigi stepped in.  He smelled of shampoo and body wash, and he wore green overalls over a yellow shirt.  His cap was yellow with a green “L” on it.  Those stumbling, blue eyes searched the disembodied glove, and then his face broke out in a smile.  Master let out his breath.  There was nothing to be afraid of.

            “Hello, L.  Nice to see you.  Please, have a seat.”

            Luigi leisurely plunked himself down on a sofa.

            “No, L.  Come up here in front of me.  I’d like to see your face.”

            Luigi traded the sofa for the swivel chair before Master’s desk.  His hands were nicely folded on the table, and he faced the giant glove expectantly.

            “I’m just going straight to the point,” said Master.  “How are you holding up?”

            “Fine,” replied Luigi.  “Peach and I decided to make devil’s food cake for Bayonetta.  You know, because she’s a witch and everything.”

            “Don’t forget what we discussed before,” Master told him, sternly.  “If you need to talk to me, Crazy or my old man, by all means, do so.  And Mario, especially Mario.  He’ll understand better than anyone else.  Dr. Mario, too—he’ll be ready to assist you if things get too extreme.”

            “I appreciate that, Master Hand,” smiled Luigi, “but really, I’m doing quite nicely.  I can’t get everything I want in life, you know.”

            “I know, all right,” chuckled Master Hand.  “So, what’s on your mind, L?”

            The last time he’d asked that question, his world had rent apart.  This time, though, was more mundane.

            “I have a favor to ask of you,” Luigi told him.  “I would like to go to Sarasaland.”

            Master Hand pursed his lips, wherever they were.  Should he allow this or not?  Of course, he should; he had a girlfriend to comfort!

            “You may go,” he said finally.  “Be back here by your first match tomorrow.”

            “Thanks, Master Hand,” smiled Luigi.  He summoned a Warp Pipe, and with that, he was gone.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Daisy opened her door to find exactly the man she wanted right now.  His hat in his hand, bearing treats aplenty.  That adorable hairstyle would always cheer her up.  “Luigi!” she cried.

            “Hi, Daisy.  I saw the reveal trailer myself.  I’m…”

            She placed a finger to his lips.  “Don’t even say it.  C’mon, I have some nachos on the table.”

            “Well, I have some chocolates to go with those nachos,” replied Luigi.

            “And I just so happen to have some ice-cream thawing in the fridge,” added Daisy.

            They embraced and kissed, and then he set his treats on the table next to the nachos.

            As night fell, they sat together on the couch, feeding each other nachos, chocolate, ice cream and some other sweets.  Romantic music was playing low on Daisy’s stereo.

            “What do you know about this Bayonetta?” asked Daisy.

            “She hunts angels,” said Luigi.  “She can change forms, summon entities, and she has Pit and Pittoo scared for their lives.”

            “I can see she’s easy on the eyes, too,” grimaced Daisy.

            “I only have eyes for one woman, and that’s you,” said Luigi.

            “Oh, L,” sighed Daisy.  She sat on his lap, against his warm chest, his strong arms around her.  As they continued to feed each other comfort food, a gloved finger would accidently-on-purpose brush against her breasts.  She loved him so much, and she urgently needed him.

            “Stupid Nintendo,” she grumbled.  “First Rosalina, and now _her_!  What does she have that I don’t?”

            “I wish I knew,” murmured Luigi, giving her a kiss on the cheek.  “People these days—all they care about is money and profit.”

            “And the biggest way to get it is sex appeal,” huffed Daisy.  “I mean, look at her.  Her back was showing, all of her curves were accentuated.  They dumped me—again—in favor of some dark-haired woman in glasses who hunts angels in her spare time and is barely known in the world of Nintendo.”

            “Daisy, I know you’re angry.  You have a right to be,” said Luigi, “but you didn’t lose by much.  All of us supported you and rallied you and fought hard to win this thing.  Even though you didn’t make it, your fans still care about you—and so do I.”  He placed a line of kisses down her neck.

            “L—thank you.  Thank you,” said Daisy.  “I want to forget about this.  All of this.”

            “Me, too.  And I have a way of doing that.”

            Already, he was snaking the zipper of the dress down her back, giving him a sneak peek at her own delicious curves.  No Umbra witch could top his Daisy.  As his lips met the warmth of her skin, his hands began to expertly fondle her, stroking in slow, circular motions, searching out the places which would spark the fire in her blood.  Her breathing began to deepen, and she let out a moan.  And then she twisted round, pried his chin up and pressed her lips against his.

            He lunged into the kiss, hugging her to him, hands wandering under her unzipped dress and savoring the lovely body it enclosed.  As he spooned and fondled, he was aware of her doing unto him in a similar fashion, grabbing handfuls of his shirt and pulling him closer, caressing his charming face, threading her fingers through his hair, giddiness traveling up her at the way he blushed.  Tongues played together and bodies thrashed uncontrollably.  Both lovebirds were conscious of a familiar twinge between their legs.  For Daisy, it was throbbing heat followed by the wetness which drove her wild.  For Luigi, it was unrelenting hardness straining against his overall pants.  He let out a long moan which served to further stimulate his Princess.

            The kiss ended, and Daisy slowly slid off her plumber.  Locking eyes with him, she kicked off her shoes and stepped out of her dress.  She smirked as his eyes flew to the two sacred treasures dancing under her bra and traced every last muscle carved into her body, her flat, taut, toned belly with a cute little navel to match, which writhed with her increasingly erratic breaths.  And then the sopping wet panties, growing still wetter.  Did he see some of it trickling down her thighs?  His heart rapped a tattoo in his chest and his pulse was in overdrive.  His Daisy had become a Fire Flower, ready to power him up.  He wanted out of these clothes—now.

            In a series of smooth motions, Daisy bent over and deeply took his mouth, and then his chin, until she was kissing all over his face and down his neck.  He’d begun to tremble.  Those hands of his couldn’t keep still, exploring the now-liberated curves, yearning at the bra straps and finally the cups.  He started panting, too, kissing her ravenously wherever he could.  She drew him out of the sofa and into her arms.  They kissed, they teased, they tantalized, they caressed, they fondled.  And the clothes started coming off.

            His shoes.

            His socks.

            His overalls.

            Her bra.

            Her crown.

            His shirt.

            His briefs.

            Her panties.

            That Warp Pipe of hers was dripping, _gushing_ wet.

            Their stomachs rubbed against each other as he helped himself to her pillowy mounds.  And then she was off the ground, her strong legs pretzeled round his waist.  His Mega Mushroom was already plunged deep inside her as they made the short journey to her bedroom.

            Her warm slickness grappled greedily at him as they ascended the stairs, him thrusting deeper and harder as they went.  And then they were at the door, pausing to calm down a little and catch their breath.  Her moans had increased to cries at this point, and she made sure to bounce up and down on him as he wrestled with the door.  He wet his lips and blotted them down her neck on her collarbone, on her chest, and in that nice little dip sneaking between the hill country.  Her skin was getting moist, as was his, and she was saying incoherent things as he French-kissed and thrust as only a guy like him could.

            Luigi paused and took in the uncontrollable shuddering of the woman clasped against him.  Her hair was already a mess, and the vibrations she gave off rippled through him.  He rubbed the small of her bare back, whispering romantic things, as he carried her inside the room.  With his hip, he closed the door after them.

            As soon as they hit the bed, Luigi dropped all restraint, making Daisy scream delightfully for more.  And he always gave more.  He could sense the day’s stress crumbling and eroding away like a boulder in a body of water.  Just like he promised, he made sure Daisy forgot all about her loss—for a while, at least.

            It was going to be a very hot night.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Crazy Hand lazily watched the monitors detailing the worlds associated with the Smashers.  Even outside of the tournaments, the Hands saw all.  You couldn’t get away with anything.  But the Hands were genuinely concerned for the well-being of their fighters.  In order to perform their best, they had to feel their best.  Hence the monitors.

            So far, there was nothing to report.  Until Crazy checked out the Sarasaland monitor…

            His eyes nearly popped out of his head, and his cheeks flushed at the sounds of gasping, panting, sighing, moaning, grunting and screaming.  “OH!  OHHHHH!  OH, GOD, YES!  YES!  DON’T STOP!  PLEASE!  YES!  HARDER!  HARDER!  OHHH MYYY GODDD!”

            “ _Dad!  Get me out of here!!_ ” screamed Crazy.


	3. Tomorrow is Another Day

**_“I’ll think about that tomorrow.  After all, tomorrow is another day.”_ **

**_\--_ ** **Scarlett O’Hara, _Gone with the Wind_ (1939)**

            Morning made its soft approach to the people of Sarasaland.  They rose, gobbled breakfast and went about their daily chores while giving silent thanks to their Princess for the lives they’d been given.  College students battled anxiety at Sarasaland University (Go Wildflowers!) as finals commenced.  The young were delighted to see a little snow dusting the ground, a sure sign that a special time of the year was upon them.  Malls hopped as shoppers scrabbled to get that perfect gift in time for Christmas.  And the servants made their way to Daisy’s royal abode with rosy cheeks, ready to wait on their lady.

            In the elegant master bedroom, two naked bodies, one male and one female, lay on the bed, one on top of the other, still aglow from the previous night’s activities.  A mop of auburn hair, now a beautiful mess, rested comfortably against a pillow.  Handsomely disheveled light brown hair was against the woman’s shoulder, her beau’s cheek against her back.  They were entwined in love’s embrace even in deep sleep.  The perfect image of the perfect relationship.

            On the nightstand, the phone rang.  A bare arm reached over and lifted the receiver.

            “Hello?” asked a sleepy voice.

            “Top of the morning, L,” said Master Hand.  “How was your stay in Sarasaland?”

            “Extremely eventful,” replied Luigi, gently rolling his hips against his somewhat-asleep Flower Princess.  She shifted and let out a small noise.

            “I thought it’d might,” said Master.  “To be honest, Crazy and I have never heard the words ‘Yahoo’, ‘Oh, yeah’ or ‘Go Weegee’ used in such a context.”

            “Well,” said Luigi.  “You’re just a pair of voyeurs, aren’t you?”

            “Not intentionally,” Master put in.  “So, how’s Daisy doing?”

            “She’s doing great,” smiled Luigi, holding the receiver with one hand while fingering Daisy with the other.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her sucking on her fingers, her eyes still closed.  “She was a little upset last night, but I told her that at least she had people rooting for her, and that this doesn’t make them love her any less.  She’s nice and calm, now.”

            “Hm.  Good to know,” said Master.  “I’m about to call everyone for breakfast.  If you’re back by nine, then there’ll still be some left for you.  And don’t forget, your first match of the day is at ten, and you have a heavy lineup ahead of you.  I strongly suggest that you get something sufficient in your belly.”

            “Waffles on the menu today, L!” Crazy broke in.  “Nice, fluffy, syrupy waffles!”

            “Well, I _do_ like waffles,” said Luigi.

            “If you’re really good, I’ll give you a bagel!” giggled Crazy.

            “Thank you for that, bro,” said Master Hand.  “Now, L, I’m glad that you took the time to be there for Daisy.  But she’s tough.  She had some words with me that day when you were injured.  So, it’s safe to assume that she’s going to be all right.”

            “Eh, she’ll probably pout over it for a few more days,” shrugged Luigi.  He was really playing with those flower petals now, starting off a fresh round of quaking and labored breathing before she came fully awake.  She had two fingers jammed into her mouth to suppress her cries.

            “If you continue to support her like you’re doing, then she’ll completely forget about it before long,” Master assured him.  “I must apologize to both of you.  Daisy would’ve been as lively an addition here as the man she loves.  I’ll be happy to help if you need anything.”

            Daisy slid the receiver from her boyfriend and put it to her ear.  “Trust us, Master Hand, we’re completely fine,” she said sweetly.  Luigi’s fingers pumped faster, deeper, flexing and stroking her moist, flexing walls.  “We’re not five-year-olds crying over a scraped knee.  I have duties as a Princess, and he has duties as a hero and a plumber.  We pick ourselves up and move on.  It’s what we do.”

            She bit back a gasp as the fingers grazed a particular spot.  Luigi teased at it again and again, feeling his own respirations increase.  His little guy was awake and ready for some more action.

            “You sure you don’t want me to keep in touch?” asked Master.

            “Positive.  Nice to speak to you, Master Hand.”

            “You too, and long live Sarasaland.”

            “Thanks.  Long live Smash Bros.,” grinned Daisy before handing the phone back to Luigi.

            “May I inquire as to my first opponent?” he wanted to know.

            “Ah, ah, ah,” intoned Master, wagging his finger.  “It’s a surprise.  But I’m serious about one thing.  You have to eat something before jumping onto the battlefield.  Got it?”

            “Can’t say ‘no’ to waffles and bagels,” said Luigi.  “See you in a few.”

            “All right.  I’m about to sound the breakfast call now,” said Master.

            Goodbyes were exchanged, and Luigi hung up.  “At least he cares,” he observed.  “Now, where were we…?”

            Daisy popped her fingers out of her mouth and moaned fervently as her plumber continued to work his fingers inside of her.  He suckled on her earlobe, her neck, her breasts, and moved his toasty mouth lower and lower on her body.  Until…

            “Aaah!”  Her muscles snapped taut, and she arched her back as Luigi focused his breathing, aimed his mouth at her flower pod, and blew.  Long, hot breaths which increased the tremors of desire currently dancing over her body.  He knew exactly where to blow, how frequently to blow, and how long the gentle breaths should be.  Daisy’s shudders were returning with a vengeance, and sliding soft hands over her torso and waist served to heighten them.

            “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry,” he said, his voice literally tickling her.  “And I could use a little snack to quell the pangs in my tummy before I head back.  What do you say—you think there’s time for one more?”

            Luigi flicked out his tongue and…

            Daisy screamed long and loud in ecstasy.

            “Sounds like a ‘yes’ to me,” smirked Luigi before helping himself to his early morning snack.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            The Smash cafeteria stirred to life with clinking plates and silverware.  Smashers lined up to gorge on fresh, hot waffles.  Some salivated as the smell lazily lingered in the air.

            “Are they ready yet?  I’m famished!” whined Pittoo.

            “It’s 6:29, Pittoo,” said Palutena.

            “You’re a Goddess, so make time go faster.”

            Palutena rolled her eyes.

            “Okay, everybody.  Waffle time!” sang out a Mii Swordfighter.  This one looked suspiciously like Chrom, which irritated Lucina to no end.

            Miis appeared in the cafeteria, carrying plates upon plates of freshly prepared waffles and settling them on the table to thunderous applause.  To go with them was warm Vermont maple syrup and cold, refreshing Vitamin D milk.

            “Now, now.  Single-file line, everyone.  No pushing or shoving.  Tips are appreciated, but not necessary,” said the Chrom look-alike.

            “Thank you very much, Mii Chrom, but I’ll take it from here,” said Master Hand, floating into the room, followed by Crazy Hand, balancing a platter of bagels on his palm.  The Chrom look-alike smiled and withdrew as Lucina glared after him.

            A loud roar erupted outside the room.

            “Oh, dear…” groaned Master.

            Master Beast burst into the cafeteria, flailing its four arms wildly.  The Smashers temporarily forgot their hunger and assumed their fighting positions.

            “I got it!” called Master, flying over with a coffee mug.  Master Beast took it and drained it in a few gulps.  The shadowy entity reformed into Master Core.

            “Thanks, my son.  I needed that,” grumbled MC.

            “Anytime, Dad,” beamed Master.  To the Smashers, he explained, “My old man is a mega destructive force without his morning coffee.”

            A green Warp Pipe sprang up in the center of the cafeteria.

            “Oh.  Look who’s here,” said MC.

            Sure enough, Luigi popped out, nice and fresh for the morning, wearing his Ice Flower uniform.  He inhaled the scent of waffles, a smile stretching his lips.

            “L!  You’re just in time!” said Crazy.  “They just brought out the waffles!”

            “Okeydokey,” said Luigi, taking his place in line.

            “Lu, you just missed the excitement,” said Peach.

            “What happened?” asked Luigi.

            “Master Beast paid us a little visit,” explained Meta Knight.  “It seems that Master Core really desires his coffee in the mornings.”

            “Oh,” said Luigi.

            “How’s Daisy?” Mario piped up.

            “Yeah,” Peach chimed in.

            “She’s a bit miffed, but she’s peachy,” replied Luigi.  “We talked last night, and I managed to calm her down.”

            “What about you?” asked Mario.  “How are you feeling?”

            “Better.  Thanks, bro.”

            “No problem.”

            Luigi’s stomach grumbled.  “Better still, once I get some waffles in me,” he clarified.

            Everyone laughed.

            Soon, plates were loaded with syrupy waffles, and the Smashers were seated at tables, preparing for another long day ahead of them.


	4. Interlude: Thoughts of an Edgy Angel

**_Dark Pit’s POV_ **

**Ugh.  Where do I begin?**

**After what seems like forever, they finally bring the waffles out.  Then, after a disaster in the form of Master Beast is averted, it’s chow time.  I pile four waffles on my plate, douse them in syrup, and eat them.  Glug down some milk.  Repeat.**

**Pit-stain is talking with his mouth full, saying something to Lady Palutena that I ignore.  I need fuel to take on an Umbra witch, you know.  You should’ve seen the look on Pit-stain’s face when her trailer was revealed.  I didn’t know if he was going to faint or soil himself.  If I felt the same way, then I made sure I didn’t show it—until we filed out, that is.**

**I haven’t slept all night.  Not a wink.  And not because I’m scared senseless, thank you very much.  It’s because I need a plan.  A plan to get on Bayonetta’s good side so I won’t end up part of her collection.  On that note, I decide to do some research on her when I have the time, so I can know what sets her off, so I can avoid doing that, so I can—well, you get the idea.**

**I’ve thought I’ve seen everything in Smash Brothers.  I guess I’m wrong.**

**Pit-stain and I have had our fill.  I say my bit to him about how I’ll keep him safe from the Umbra witch, blah, blah, blah, and he says something similar to me.  Brotherly fluff just isn’t my forte; it’s too mushy for my taste.  But I love Pit-stain, in my own edgy way.  So, Bayonetta has to go through me to get him.**

**Any-who, once we’re done eating waffles and bagels, Pit-stain, Lady Palutena and I leave the cafeteria and split up.  Lady Palutena wants some quality time with her girlfriends ( _eyeroll_ ) before her matches.  Pit-stain opts for some buddy time with Sonic and Fox.  And I head straight to the Training Room to prepare for my first bout of the day.**

**Turns out I have company.**

**It’s that man in green—what’s his name?—Luigi, right, _Luigi_.  He’s pounding the living Hades out of a Sandbag, each brutal _thwack_ echoing in the large room.  The Sandbag is suffering something fierce, but not once does he halt his assault.  The guy has this expression on his face which will make anyone think twice about messing with him—except yours truly, of course.  As soon as the Sandbag is rendered useless, he simply targets a fresh one.**

**What’s this dude’s problem?**

**Oh, right.  The girl of his dreams didn’t get into Smash, how flippin’ sad.**

**He needs to spend a day in my sandals, dreading an angel hunter breathing down his neck.  Come to think of it, L has it easy compared to me.  So what in Hades is he stewing about?**

**I’ve heard stories of a few Smashers here bothering him.  Those Smashers—are not here anymore.  Since I’m still standing, you can assume that I’m not one of them.  Not because I like him, which so far I don’t.  I just don’t care about his problems.  I don’t care about his phasmophobia, I don’t care about his year, I don’t care about his mansion, I don’t care about his Polterpup, and I don’t care about his dreamy self.  Need I go on?**

**I.**

**Don’t.**

**Freaking.**

**Care.**

**Standing here, watching him attack one Sandbag after another, I feel nothing over his predicament.  I don’t care how badly he wanted Daisy in Smash.  I don’t—okay, you get the idea.**

**Happy, bubbly, dance music is on the stereo, so at least he’s not full-on edgy over this.  However, I do not want to train to such music.  So, I leave Luigi to get whatever he’s feeling right now out of his system and look for somewhere suitable to practice.**

**My phone buzzes.  I take it out and read the incoming text.**

**_Arena Ferox.  No items.  Twenty minutes.  I’ll be waiting. –Lucina_**

**Why is Lucina the only woman who makes me blush?**

**Fine.  Luigi can have those stupid Sandbags.**

**I make sure all of my weapons are ready and teleport to Arena Ferox.**

**“Record time, Pittoo,” says Lucina when I arrive.  She tucks her blue hair behind her ears and unsheathes Falchion.  “You ready for some sparring?”**

**“Yeah.  Game on, Lucy!”**

**“Very well.  Come at me!”**

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

**It’s a draw.  I kiss Lucy on the cheek before I head back to check on my lineup for the day.  I smirk when I see Luigi’s name on the first slot.  Perfect.  I get to show him how much I don’t care.**

**I pass by the Training Room, where he’s still at it.  I know this because I can hear his voice, even with the doors shut tight, muttering about “the greedy, selfish suits at Nintendo” and how they’d do this “after everything he’d done for them” in between harsh grunts, heavy punches and angry breaths.  I bite back a snicker.  Why is he working himself up over nothing?  So what if his Princess didn’t get in?**

**“That’s the way life goes, plumber,” I grumble under my breath.**

**That’s when I notice a pad and pen nearby.  I grab them and scrawl a quick message on the paper: _I can’t help but feel sorry for you, L._   Then, I fold it in half and slide it under the door.**

**I feel better.**

**Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a match to get ready for.**


	5. Into the New Year

_Some weeks later_

            “3…2…1…HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

            Party horns blasted the air and confetti descended on the Smashers like festive snow as the book that was 2015 closed for good.  A new, blank book, 2016, was now before them, ready to receive the experiences and stories of Super Smash Brothers.  They were starting over fresh and rejuvenated.  Twelve months were ahead of them, with certain checkpoints in between—anything could happen.

            Couples were engaged in the obligatory New Year’s Kiss as confetti and streamers continued to shower down.  Master Hand could make out Luigi and Daisy, and Mario and Peach.  When the clock struck midnight, he’d felt a heavy weight lift from his palm, and he was sure Crazy Hand and Master Core felt the same way, too.  During the last hour of 2015, Master and Luigi had retreated to the former’s private bar and had a long talk about the events of that year.  Welcoming back Mewtwo, Lucas and Roy.  Welcoming Ryu, Cloud, Corrin, Corrine and Bayonetta.  Playing Super Mario Maker.  The release of _Paper Jam_.  The Presidential election drama and the dress uproar.  The reveal of what Luigi had gone through in the course of all four tournaments and how his tormentors had been “taken care of”.  Even the incident with Stuart Bennigan.  Luigi had finally gotten it all out of his system.  To be honest, Master was shocked that it had left the plumber suspicious and insecure of him, the head of Smash.  He could agree that he easily bent to Stuart’s will, primarily because of the mother’s presence.  But Tabuu?  He was wise enough to know that he’d always be up to no good.  Regardless, it was wonderful that Luigi spoke to him about his residual feelings over the situation.

            The best part was that MC had fixed them drinks.

            As soon as the kissing was over, the Smashers headed outside to see a fireworks display ringing in 2016.  Corks were popped, bubbly was poured, and good feelings won the day.  It was infectious, reaching Master and Crazy, too.  Soon, they, too, were sipping on some bubbly.  They were lighter than feathers now.  The hard times and uncertainty had passed, and now it was time to embrace the future.

            “He looks very happy,” observed Master.  “Happier than in a long time.”

            “Tell me about it,” said Crazy.  “I mean, he was always an optimistic guy, but…”

            “The last time I saw him this laid back and relaxed was during his year,” said Master, “and when he was basking in the afterglow of the kart-racing tournament.”

            “I’ll tell you one thing, he won’t be giving Death Stares to anyone anytime soon,” Crazy said heartily.  “Except, of course, the head honchos at Nintendo, but what are the chances of that?”

            “Yeah,” laughed Master, but there was a nervous tinge to his laugh.

            “You know, he didn’t get everything he wanted, but he looks like he’s in a good place now,” said MC, joining his two sons.  “Less Smashers are picking on him now, and he appears to have sworn off holding grudges.  For that, we should be truly thankful.”  He sniffed.  “Say, have you two been drinking?”

            “Well…” began Master.  He jabbed a finger at Crazy.  “It was his idea!”

            “Was not!” objected Crazy.

            “Was too!”

            “Then prove it!”

            Crazy changed the subject by pointing at the antics of certain revelers.  “Wow, they’re really cutting loose,” he murmured.

            “Boys, do you think you should, you know, put the clamp down?” asked MC.  “Some of these couples are getting a little—naughty.”  And indeed, hands were a-wandering between Lucina and Dark Pit, Mac and Ryu, Roy and Marth, Luigi and Daisy and many other lovers.

            “Eh, it’s New Year’s,” said Master.  “Let them have their fun.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            “It’s quiet,” MC said to the reader.  “ _Too_ quiet.”

            In the succeeding days, Luigi had insisted that he was fine with Daisy not making the cut.  Yet actions spoke louder than words.  The mornings of hauling away spent Sandbags had returned, as did the nights filled with heavy metal and full-throated exclamations as attacks slammed into those Sandbags.  For the sake of starting over, they didn’t press the matter.  And it could be worse—at least it wasn’t Evanescence blasting all night when people were trying to sleep.  Plus, Luigi was releasing whatever he was feeling via non-harmful ways.  The question was—how long could he keep to his grudge-free resolution.

            Luigi made sure to visit Daisy at least once a week.  He knew how to temper her rage whenever it welled up.  Despite how stung _he_ was, he had to put his Flower Princess first.  They’d have dinner and talk, and they always wound up in the bedroom, naked and sweaty, as gentle love ballads wafted from her CD player.  He really loved the way she sighed as he emptied all of his love into her flower pot, and she really loved the thick streams of warmth pumping from him.  There were times when the Smashers couldn’t leave the tournaments, usually during “high alert” periods when threats loomed.  During those periods, they had to quell their heat themselves.  But they were really making up for lost time here.  Guess losing the Smash Ballot had its perks, after all.

            Once it was all done, they’d kiss some more and whisper mushy things to each other, maybe feed each other some dark chocolate, and then they’d discuss their plans for the future.  One would start smearing chocolate kisses all over the other, and it would all begin again till they fell asleep.

            One night, as they held each other in their arms, Daisy smiled at Luigi.  “You know, I feel a lot better now,” she said.

            “Me, too,” said Luigi.  “Does that mean—you want me to…?”

            “No, no,” Daisy said quickly.  “Just…less frequently.  After all, we have work to concentrate on.”

            “You’re right.  We do.”

            “So, uh, how’s that business you have set up in Manhattan?  Is it still going strong?”

            “Yep.  As strong as ever.  And how are things here?  No wars or stuff like that?”

            “We just finished a diplomatic mission to Popstar,” said Daisy.

            “Popstar.  That’s where Kirby’s from!” said Luigi.

            “We helped them elect a new king, a more benevolent one,” explained Daisy.

            “Yeah, I _did_ hear about that,” said Luigi.  “No more food-stealing after this?”

            “Nope.”

            “That’s good to know.”  He kissed her collarbone.  “Daisy, don’t worry about the suits at Nintendo.  Soon, they’ll learn the error of their ways.”

            “And how will they go about doing that?” asked Daisy.

            Luigi winked at her and then kissed all the way down her body.  “They’ll see,” he murmured into her navel.  “They’ll all see.”  He worked his tongue in her belly button.

             Daisy giggled.  “Lu, that tickles!”  She squealed as he blew into her navel.  His ’stache twizzled across her ticklish skin.

            “You leave Nintendo to me, _Princesa_ ,” he said to her.  “I’ll take care of everything.  I promise.”

            “Gosh,” gasped Daisy.  “Stop talking, and get that Mushroom in me.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Luigi came back from his recent visit with Daisy feeling like a new man.  There was so much compassion and sunshine in him, and he wanted to share it with all of the Smashers—as long as he was off the battlefield, of course.

            “And don’t get me started on what happened between him and Pittoo,” MC broke in.  “The day after the Ballot results were announced, Master Hand scheduled a match between them.  I saw Pittoo outside the Training Room, where Luigi was letting off steam—saw him write something on a piece of paper, slip it under the door, and go about his merry way.  They met up at the Reset Bomb Forest for their three-stock match.  To be honest, I’d never seen someone spam their Side-B so much in my life.  Yet all of the spamming in the world couldn’t save Pittoo from bitter defeat.  I could tell from the heated fight that there was no love lost between these two.  They both had to be checked out by Dr. Mario.  This time, Master decided to talk to Luigi about it.  Turns out, Pittoo had slipped him a very sardonic message before the fight.  Crazy handled Pittoo.  The dark angel had never bothered Luigi before—he just wanted him to know that he didn’t care.  After they were released, Luigi did his usual 1UP Mushroom thing—and he took him to Chuck E. Cheese’s that night.  Pittoo _loves_ going to Chuck E. Cheese’s.”

            Pittoo’s indifference seemed to fly out the window after that.  In fact, the angel twins worked out a little system.  During breaks in between matches, Pit, along with Palutena and Viridi, would take Luigi to Hot Topic, where they’d commiserate over the Ballot result over yummy food and tasty drinks.  By night, Pittoo and his friends would pick Luigi up, and they’d go have some fun at Chuck E. Cheese’s.  They made sure to bring him back by midnight.  By then, Luigi would be too tired to bother with any Sandbags.  The three heads of the Smash tournament were thankful to the dark angel for this.

            “Indeed!” said MC.

            “Dad, are you done breaking the fourth wall?  We have work to do!” announced Crazy.

            “Okay, coming!” said MC.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            “What are we doing here?” demanded MC.

            They’d arrived at a new-looking building.  _Mr. V’s_ _Café_ , the sign read.

            “Mr. V.  Does that ring any bells?” asked Master.  “As I recall, there’s a Smasher with the letter ‘V’ in his surname.  Somebody’s roommate, to be exact.”

            MC’s eyes widened.  “No way,” he gasped, recalling the tall, handsome man willing to share space with one of the Smashers.  “Evan Vidad opened up his own restaurant?”

            Master nodded.  “Now that Luigi isn’t getting any trouble, Evan’s had some time on his hands,” he explained.  “He took some online courses, got his business degree, and bam.  Here he is now.  I heard opening night drew over 15,000 patrons.”

            “That still doesn’t answer my question,” said MC.  “What are we doing here?”

            “What do you think?” asked Crazy.  “We’re getting food.  For our bellies, and for thought.”

            “Don’t get smart with me,” warned MC.  Then, he realized something.  “You think Evan might know something about Luigi.”

            Both hands nodded.

            “What kind of food do they have?”

            “Breakfast food, Mexican food, Italian food, Asian food—all kinds of food,” said Master.  “Sandwiches, cake, pastries, sundaes—you name it, they have it.”

            MC’s stomach growled.  “Let’s go,” he said.

            They stepped through the door, where the proprietor himself greeted them, in a pressed shirt and pants, protected by an apron.  “Hey, Master, Crazy, MC!  Welcome to Mr. V’s, Where Smashers Can Smash Their Hunger.  How many today?”

            “Just the three of us, thank you,” said MC.

            Evan directed them to a private booth.  “May I start you off with some drinks?  Coffee, tea, soda pop, smoothies, shakes?”

            “We’d like a nice pot of coffee, with the cream and sugar on the side,” said Master.

            “Coming right up,” Evan sang out before sweeping away.

            Less than a minute later, Evan returned with the coffee and three mugs.  “Be careful, I just made this,” he warned.  “I’ll give you some time to look over your menus.”

            Smiling, Evan retreated back into the kitchen.  There, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

            “Hey, buddy.  How’s it coming?” asked the friendly, accented voice on the other end.

            “So far, so good.  I’ve got them in my private booth now.  I can easily suss out plenty of information.”

            “I take it that business is going well,” said the voice.

            “It is.  I wish you’d drop in sometime and try it out.”

            “Actually, I’m on my way there now.  We can meet up on your break.”

            “I’d like that, L,” said Evan.

            Luigi smiled as he got into his car.  “You’re doing a great job, Evan.  Remember, though, get as much proof as you can that they knew all along.”

            “You got it, L.  See you in twenty.”  Then, he hung up and went to check on his customers.

            Luigi started the engine and drove away, making sure to Death Stare a few stupid drivers as he went.

            Back at Mr. V’s, Evan took the orders from the three final bosses.

            “I’d like your All-Day Breakfast Special,” said MC.

            “How would you like your eggs?” asked Evan.

            “Over-hard, please.”

            “And what kind of toast?”

            “Whole wheat, please.”

            “Crazy and I would like the chocolate-chip pancakes,” said Master.

            “Short-stack or full-stack?”

            “Full stack,” the Hands replied in unison.

            MC arched an eyebrow at them, but said nothing.

            “And how would you like your eggs?”

            “Scrambled well, please,” said Crazy.

            “Let me know if you need anything else, and I’ll go put those orders in,” said Evan, and he left.

            The trio sipped their coffee and read the daily newspaper.  Crazy, of course, skipped straight to the funnies section.

            In the kitchen, Evan handed the order to the chefs.  “All right, team.  We have some VIPs in here.  Let’s make them feel nice and at home.”

            Several minutes later, Evan returned to the booth with a young woman in tow.  “Gentlemen, this is my girl, Mandy.  She’ll be taking care of you when I go on my break.”

            “Hi, guys,” Mandy said cheerily.

            “Hello,” said the trio.

            Mandy was just as tall as Evan, maybe taller, with deep, red hair pulled into a bun.  Her gray eyes searched the three customers.  “How are things so far?” she asked.

            “Great.  I love the service,” praised Master.

            “Oh, Mandy—have you met the Master Hand?” asked Evan.  “He oversees the tournament I was telling you about—Super Smash Brothers.  And here’s his brother, Crazy Hand, and the father, Master Core.”

            “I’ve heard of them,” said Mandy.  “It’s good to meet you all.”

            “Evan said that the Smashers Smash their hunger here,” said MC.

            “That’s the truth of it,” beamed Mandy.

            Master noticed the familiar sparkle on Mandy’s finger.  “Oh, congratulations!” he cried.

            “Thank you,” Evan and Mandy said in unison.

            “When’s the big day, if you don’t mind my asking?” asked Master.

            Evan shrugged.  “Haven’t decided yet.  We do know that it’s not going to be one of those splashy, soap-opera affairs.  We’ll probably trudge over to the courthouse with our rings and witnesses, followed by a breezy reception at Hot Topic.  And—don’t forget the top secret honeymoon.”

            Mandy chuckled.

            “You know,” said Master, “as the head of the Smash tournament, I am authorized to perform wedding ceremonies.  So, if you change your mind about the courthouse, be sure to give me a call.  We’ll have a wedding on the house.”

            “We’ll think about it, Master Hand,” said Mandy.  “All right?”

            “All right.”

            Mandy turned to Evan.  “I’ll check on the other tables,” she said, and departed.

            Evan nodded to the guests.  “I’ll go check on those orders,” he smiled before departing as well.

            “Wow, I can’t believe Evan’s starting new life for himself,” said Master.

            “Me neither,” said MC.  “It appears his living situation has settled down a bit.  We’d better start planning a room for the two of them.”

            “Now, Dad,” said Master.  “Let’s not think too far ahead.”

            “Roger,” said MC.

            A few more minutes went by.

            At last, Evan came with their orders.

            “Wow, record time,” said Crazy.

            Once the food had been placed on the table, Evan squatted down to their level.  “Well, I’m officially on my break now, so we can chat a bit.  So, what brings you to Mr. V’s?  Surely, it’s more than the tempting smells of our food.”

            “You’re right.  We didn’t just come for the food,” said MC, all business.  “We came to talk to you about—recent events.”

            “Ah.  You must mean the Smash Ballot,” said Evan.  “I heard that Bayonetta won.  Is that true?”

            “It is,” said Master.

            “I’m happy for her, honestly,” said Evan, “it’s just—L really wanted Daisy, and I understand why.  To spend more time together.”

            “Which is exactly why we’re here,” said MC.  “How do you think he’s taking it?”

            “Aside from hitting Sandbags and wowing the crowd?  Pretty well,” replied Evan.  “He doesn’t seem salty about it at all.  Word is out that he’s going out with those angel twins more.  I didn’t know they were close.”

            “Long story,” said MC, eating a forkful of food.

            Meanwhile, Crazy was gobbling up his pancakes like a starving man.  Master nudged him.  “C’mon.  They’re not going anywhere.”

            “What’s going on?” Evan demanded of them.  “You think he’s not taking it well?”

            “He says he is,” replied MC, “but you should see him when he’s fighting somebody, particularly someone he’s not very close to.”

            Evan chuckled.  “I saw him fight King Koopa several times,” he said.  “Trust me, I know when he’s matched up against someone he doesn’t really like.”  He closed his eyes as he recalled the first fight he spectated, Luigi and that kidnapper going hard at each other like they were going to war.  The shouts of determination and the fearlessness in those blue eyes, watching him get knocked down only to get back up.  On a rough day, he’d simply close his eyes and picture his roommate, wearing his Fire Flower uniform, agile and strong and fierce, eventually scoring a powerful victory against his more fearsome opponent.

            “He may be a little butthurt, yes,” Evan went on, “but how else is he going to let that aggression out?”

            “Have you noticed anything about his behavior, his interactions, anything—which set off an alarm bell in your head?” pressed MC.

            “Nope, not that I know of.  You?”

            “The aforementioned,” said MC.  “He’s back to depleting our supply of Sandbags and putting opponents—and sometimes himself—in Dr. Mario’s office.  How about conversations?  Has he said anything to you, or to Mario, or to Peach, or to Rosalina, or to Yoshi—anything that signaled something wasn’t quite right?”

            “If you think something is up with him, perhaps you should talk to him yourselves,” Evan said sternly.  “I really don’t feel comfortable sharing our talks with you.  You see, L and I worked to build trust in each other, and if I squawk whatever he’s said to me in front of all these people in my restaurant, then won’t that be a breach of our trust?”

            “I guess so,” said Crazy, his mouth full of food.

            “Trust makes up the skeleton of Smash,” said Evan.  “You’ve allowed trust to develop between all of the fighters you’ve invited.   You’ve given them a reason to trust you.  But, I’m sorry to say that some of the Smashers put on false fronts to gain Luigi’s trust, and once that end was accomplished, they took advantage of that trust.  We both know what happened to those Smashers.”

            “Okay, why are we talking about trust?” asked MC.

            “I’m noticing that you three are trying to repair Luigi’s trust in you,” explained Evan.  “I can honestly say that I’m happy for that.  And surely, Luigi had to work on his part to heal your trust in him, after losing his temper over that Stuart guy.  I still think you were wrong to punish him, but hey, that’s been beaten too much.  But you want to know what will really help patch up the trust between you?”

            “What?” asked Master.

            “If you have any concerns, by all means, tell him,” said Evan.  “If there’s something you desperately need to tell him, don’t sit on it.  Trust me, it’ll grow more uncomfortable over time.  That’s why I told Mandy about my living situation with L, and what those four creeps put us through.”

            “Yeah, we’ve meant to ask you about them,” said Master.

            “Didn’t L tell you about…?”

            “Yes.  That day in the office, he confessed everything, including what he caught them doing to you,” replied Master.  “We’re so sorry.  If only we’d caught on to them sooner.”

            “I told Mandy all about that, too,” said Evan.  “She was very patient.  She even offered to take me to a psychiatrist friend of hers.  Now, enough with getting off topic…”

            “Have you told him about Mandy?” asked Master.

            “Are you serious?  Sure, I did.  I introduced them over the holidays.  Now, back to my point.  If there’s anything you should’ve told him which slipped you mind, don’t you think you should tell him as soon as you get back?”

            The three bosses exchanged looks.

            “Allow us to explain the Ballot process, Evan,” said MC.  “After we let Ryu in, we decided to let the fans tell _us_ who to invite next.  So, we sent the Ballots out online and gave them until October to cast their votes.  Late in October, the Ballot closed.”

            “Who counted the votes?” quizzed Evan.  “You or Nintendo?”

            “I think Sakurai did,” said Master.

            “That’s right!  Sakurai!” exclaimed Crazy with a belch.

            “Once Sakurai and his team counted the votes, they made a bar graph detailing the results and sent it to us,” MC continued.  “In fact, I still have that bar graph.”

            “I would like to see it, please,” said Evan.  “Out of curiosity.”

            Master wagged his finger.  “That information is classified,” he admonished.

            That was when Mandy walked back over, expertly balancing three plates of pancakes.  “Hello again,” she said.  “I just spoke with the chefs, and they told me that they may have burned some of your pancakes.”

            “One of them did feel kind of tough,” admitted Crazy.

            “Please, accept our sincere apology for that,” said Mandy.  “We value our customers’ total satisfaction.  Allow us to compensate with an extra short-stack of pancakes, on the house.”

            MC’s mouth watered.  “Thank you,” he said.

            Mandy placed the pancakes on the table.  She then heard a faint chime.  “More customers!” she sang out.  “I’d better get them situated.”  And then she left.

            “Lovely service,” said Master, dousing his pancakes in syrup and taking a forkful.  “Now, where were we?”

            “You were saying something about a bar graph,” prompted Evan.

            “Of course,” said MC.  He reached into his pocket, pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to Evan.

            “Be very careful with this,” he warned.

            Evan nodded, unfolded the paper and sneaked a peek.  Sure enough, Bayonetta had the most votes.  Those three had known well in advance.

            Suddenly, they heard a clatter.  Gasping, Evan made a dive for the floor, picked up whatever he dropped, checked it for damage, stood back up and gave the re-folded paper back to MC.  “Thanks,” he said.

            The object had been his cell phone, which was protected against damage.  In actuality, Evan had snapped a photo of the bar graph so he could show it to Luigi.

            “You’re welcome,” said MC.

            “I’m glad I could catch up with you,” said Evan.

            “Same here,” said Master.

            Evan glanced at his watch.  “Thirty minutes left,” he said.  “I’d better get a move on, guys.”

            “Before you go, I just want to say that these pancakes are so good,” said MC.

            Evan winked at him.  “They come with a secret ingredient,” he said before taking his leave.

            The proprietor walked over to a seat by the window, where Luigi sat, waiting.  Mandy had just taken his order.

            “L,” Evan said, plunking himself across from him.  “Nice to see you.  You’re looking fine, as always.”

            Luigi had decided to put on his soft pink Wrecking Crew outfit today.  “You, too,” he smiled.

            Then, Evan leaned over into Luigi’s ear and whispered, “It worked.  Those three took the bait.”

            Then, he showed him the photo of the bar graph.

            Evan had made the trio’s meal extra-special.

            The extra pancakes?  Mandy’s idea.

            The “secret ingredient” was a small dose of truth serum, not enough to cause intoxication, but just enough to loosen their tongues.     


	6. House of Cards

**Cause baby, now we’ve got bad blood!**

**You know, it used to be mad love!**

**So take a look what you’ve done!**

**Cause baby, now we’ve got bad blood, hey!**

**Now we’ve got problems,**

**And I don’t think we can solve them!**

**You made a really deep cut,**

**And baby, now we’ve got bad blood, hey!**

**Did you have to do this?  I was thinking that you could be trusted!**

**Did you have to ruin what was shiny?  Now it’s all rusted!**

**Did you have to hit me where I’m weak?  Baby, I couldn’t breathe!**

**And rub it in so deep, salt in the wound like you’re laughing right at me?**

**Oh, it’s so sad to think about the good times, you and I—**

**Cause baby, now we’ve got bad blood!**

**You know, it used to be mad love!**

**So take a look what you’ve done!**

**Cause baby, now we’ve got bad blood, hey!**

**Now we’ve got problems,**

**And I don’t think we can solve them!**

**You made a really deep cut,**

**And baby, now we’ve got bad blood, hey!**

**Did you think we’d be fine?  Still got scars on my back from your knife!**

**So don’t think it’s in the past; these kinds of wounds, they last and they last!**

**Now, did you think it all through?  All these things will catch up to you!**

**And time can heal, but this won’t, so if you’re coming my way—just don’t!**

**Oh, it’s so sad to think about the good times, you and I—**

**Cause baby, now we’ve got bad blood…**

**Band-Aids don’t fix bullet holes.**

**You say sorry just for show.**

**You live like that; you live with ghosts…**

**_(Repeat)_ **

**If you love like that, blood runs cold!**

**Cause baby, now we’ve got bad blood…**

**_(2x)_ **

**\--Taylor Swift, “Bad Blood”**

 

            “Oh, man,” groaned Crazy Hand.  “There was more than chocolate chips in those pancakes, that’s for sure.  I feel a little funny.”

            “Go and take a nap,” said Master Hand.  “Dad and I will deal with the rest of the matches.”

            “Really?”

            “Really, really.”

            “Thanks.  You put other brothers to shame,” cooed Crazy.

            Master laughed nervously.  “I wouldn’t say that.”

            Crazy patted Master on the back and floated to his room.

            “So,” said Master Core.  “What’s our next move?”

            “Let’s get these matches over and done,” replied Master.  “Then, we’ll go talk to Luigi.”

            “Let’s hope we can grab him before Pittoo takes him to Chuck E. Cheese’s,” added MC.

            Master floated to a microphone and pressed a button.  “Attention, Smashers.  Crazy Hand is not feeling well at the moment, so Classic Mode at intensity 3.0 and above is unavailable for the remainder of the day.  I apologize for the inconvenience.”  To MC, he said, “It’s not the same without him.”

            “I know,” nodded MC.

            They reached the Training Room, where a chorus of voices erupted in ferocious shouts and grunts.  Instantly, they pinpointed Luigi’s voice.  As for the others, they sounded like Sheik, Evan, Lucina, Peach, Mario, Pittoo, Pit and Zero Suit Samus.

            Looked like Luigi tired of the Sandbags and decided to host a free-for-all.

            “Yeah, you think?  It was about time,” said MC.

            “Dad, how many times are you going to do that?” asked Master.

            “Do what?”

            “Break the fourth wall?”

            “It’s a whole lot of fun.  Perhaps you should try it sometime,” counseled MC.

            “Okay, I will,” said Master.  “Do you think we should…?”

            “I’ll go first,” eyerolled MC.  “Will that make you happy?”

            “Oh, all right.”

            MC knocked on the door.  “Housekeeping!” he sang out.

            The sparring halted.  The knob turned, and the door opened, revealing a sufficiently sweated-out Mario.  “Oh, hello!” he said in his trademark chipper falsetto.  “Nice of you to drop in!”

            “Hey, Mario,” greeted MC.  “You look terrific.”

            “Wow, thanks,” blushed Mario.  “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

            “First of all, don’t get too tired out,” said MC.  “You-know-who is coming for you at 3:30.”

            “Mamma mia,” sighed Mario.

            “C’mon,” said Master.  “You beat him before.”

            “And the second thing?” prompted Mario.

            “We’d like to have a word with your brother after his last match,” said MC.  “There’s something we have to tell him.”

            “Sure, MC!” called Luigi.  He sounded quite winded.  “I’ll head straight to the office after I shower.”

            “In fact,” said Master.  “Neither of you should exhaust too much of your energy.  The bulk of your matches are still ahead of you.”

            “Yes, Master Hand,” they all chorused.

            “Okay.  As you were,” said MC.  He turned to leave, but then Luigi’s voice stopped them.

            “Hey, guys.”

            Master and MC turned as he emerged behind Mario.  They saw sweat dripping off his bulbous nose, his earlobes, his chin, his clothes and his elbows, making distinct, small splashing sounds on the floor.  He sported slight cuts and burns from the angel twins’ blades, Falchion, fireballs and Zero Suit Samus’s weapons, but nothing serious.  His chest puffed in and out like bellows, his mouth in an “O”.  His eyes resembled pools of blue liquid.  He looked like he genuinely needed someone to talk to.

            “Hey, L,” said MC.  “Are you staying hydrated?”

            “I am.  So, what did you think of Evan’s café?”

            Master’s heart stopped.  “How did you know?”

            “I made a stop there myself for some grub.  Saw you three headed out.”  Luigi gained enough breath to smile.  “That guy can make a mean breakfast, can’t he?  And I’ve heard that his pancakes are made with a secret ingredient.  You know, once all the hype is settled down, we’ll go and eat there again sometime.  My treat.”

            The two bosses smiled uncomfortably.  “Thank you for the offer,” MC finally said.

            “You’re welcome,” said Luigi.

            They stood there for a few seconds more, and then Master floated to Luigi because he _really_ looked vulnerable now.  Gently, he enclosed his fingers round the plumber, who returned the embrace.

            “Thanks, Master Hand,” he whispered.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            “You mean to tell me that they knew all along?” Daisy demanded of her boyfriend over the phone.

            “They did,” Luigi said somberly.  “Of course, they wouldn’t readily admit it, but I had some help extracting that information.”

            “Evan,” realized Daisy.  “He owns that restaurant.”

            “Bingo,” said Luigi.  “His fiancée, Mandy, also pitched in.  It’s funny what a nice, fat stack of pancakes can do.”

            “So, basically, the three of you bribed the heads of the Smash tournament,” said Daisy.

            “‘Persuaded’ is the better term,” clarified Luigi.  “And that wasn’t it.  Evan put a little secret ingredient in those pancakes.  Once they had enough, they were singing like Perry Cuomo.  MC even slipped the bar graph to Evan.”

            “All right,” said Daisy.  “Great teamwork.”

            “Normally, I wouldn’t do such a thing, since it violates everything I believe in,” confessed Luigi, “but I’m willing to make an exception for the woman I love.”

            Daisy blushed.  “I’ll never love another man like you, L,” she cooed.  “Hey, what if I invited Master Hand over for tea and put something special in it?  We’d get more out of him, then.”

            “Hmm.  Just don’t put in too much,” advised Luigi.  “We don’t want to be responsible for a tragedy, do we?”

            “No.  But I wonder, Lu—what’s your plan?”

            “Still working on it,” replied Luigi, “but I’ll have them all groveling on the ground, begging for your forgiveness.  Count on that.”

            “You’re so hot tempered, love,” Daisy said after a while.

            “In a situation like this, you have no time to think,” Luigi told her.  “Instinct takes over.  And what kind of hero _wouldn’t_ defend his Princess’s honor?”

            “My honor has nothing to do with this, L,” said Daisy.  “It’s my hopes and dreams.”

            “Mine, too,” Luigi said quietly.

            “Gotta run, Lu,” said Daisy.  “Political meeting.  See you soon.  Luv you.”

            “You, too,” said Luigi before they hung up.

            “Oh, yes,” hissed Daisy as she primped for her meeting.  “Those Hands are going to be _very_ sorry.”

            And as Luigi headed for his next bout, he murmured, “I hope you’re ready, Master Hand, because I’m about to bring you a gift that keeps on giving.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Luigi waited till after his last match for the day, against Mario, no less, before calling up Master Hand.

            “I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone our little converse till tomorrow morning,” he said in as weak a voice as he could muster.  “That final fight took a lot out of me.  It’s Mario, so I shouldn’t have expected less.”

            “I understand,” said Master, fighting to keep the dread from his voice.  “You rest up.”

            “Same goes for you, too,” said Luigi, “and I hope Crazy Hand feels better, too.  Next time, tell him to lay off those pancakes.”

            Master broke the tension with a chuckle.

            “I’ll see you terrific three early tomorrow morning,” Luigi said slyly.  “I’m greatly anticipating what you all have to say for yourselves.”

            “Wait, what do you mean…?” began Master.

            He was cut off when Luigi hung up.

            Over the dial tone, Master could hear the sound of his heart.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            “Mario,” Master said tersely as he approached the red-capped plumber.  “A word.  Now.”

            Mario nodded.  He knew there were no options.  And he knew the subject of their talk.

            They walked into Master’s office, where he shut and locked the door.

            “Have you ever communicated with your brother, Mario?” asked Master.  “I mean, _really_ sat down and talked to him?”

            Mario bit his lip.  “Master Hand, you know I’m willing to help you with anything, but if we’re going to start the prodding about Luigi again…”  He took a deep breath.  “I figured that he needed time for himself.”

            “It’s good that you’ve given him space.  I respect that,” said Master, “but I think the time has come to break your silence.  You need to go and speak with him.  Be his sounding board so he can get things off his chest.  He needs you more than ever now.”

            “I was on my way to apologize to him,” Mario said after a bit.

            “You got into a fight?” asked Master.

            “I was probably too rough on him in that match,” explained Mario.  “I wanted to go see him and make sure he wasn’t upset with me.”

            Master nodded.  “I love how much you care for him.”

            “I always have.  And let me tell you something.  I know that he’s back to hitting Sandbags at night.  I’ve found him out like a light in his room; I saw him just as he was leaving the Training Room, and I knew.  But—I couldn’t tell you.  Our bond is just—so sacred.”

            “Dad, Crazy and myself—we were going to talk to him, but the fight tired him out, and we postponed it,” said Master.  “And he said something about hearing what we had to say for ourselves.  It was—creepy, to say the least.”

            Mario put a hand on Master’s shoulder.  “Don’t worry about it,” he said soothingly.  “I heard that Luigi and Pittoo are coming back from Chuck E. Cheese’s early tonight.  Maybe we’ll talk things over then.”

            An overwhelming sense of relief washed over Master Hand.  “Thank you, Mario,” he said.  “I can always rely on you.”

            “Always,” said Mario, and then he departed.  The door closed behind him in time for Master to miss the smirk playing on his lips.  Of course, Luigi had told him everything.  Those three were getting everything that was coming to them.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Later that night, Master Hand, Crazy Hand and Master Core lay awake, listening to the grunts and interjections from the Mario Bros. as they engaged each other in a late-night rematch.  Energetic music from their RPG games replaced the usual rock and heavy metal tunes.  From the sounds wafting to them from the Training Room, they must’ve patched things up between them rather quickly.  Cries of “Way to go, Bro!” and “Nice one, Bro!” were interspersed among the other sounds as they congratulated and complimented one another.  But the three weren’t surprised.  They were the _Super_ Mario Bros., they were the perfect team, and even with the issue of fame still lingering (though not as strong), they loved each other in the end.

            “Thanks again, Mario,” whispered Master Hand before he drifted off to sleep.

            “Brothers,” mumbled Crazy.  “Can’t live with them; can’t live without them.”  He, too, dropped off.

            “Sleep tight, my dear boys,” sighed MC as he gave in to the caress of slumber.  The last thing he heard before rapid-eye movement set in was: “Bingo!  Oh-ho-ho!  I’m-a Luigi, number one!”


	7. Diem Iudicii Cruciandos Reservare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title translates to Day of Judgment.

**I’m friends with the monster that’s under my bed.**

**Get along with the voices inside of my head.**

**You’re trying to save me; stop holding your breath.**

**Yeah, you think I’m crazy—you think I’m crazy—**

**Well, that’s not fair!**

**\--Rihanna**

            “Wakey-wakey,” said Master Core as he roused his two sons.  “Rise and shine.  Today’s the big day!”

            “Oh, brother,” groaned Master Hand.  “I’m _so_ not ready for this.”

            “I’m hungry,” joined in Crazy Hand.

            “It’s not even daybreak yet,” said Master, indicated the still black sky.

            “We have to get this over with sooner or later,” counseled MC, “so it might as well be sooner.  And furthermore, I thought we’d get some things done before the Smashers wake up.”

            “C’mon, Dad,” whined Crazy.  “Ten more minutes.”

            “Then I guess you don’t want to go to the Smashville Bakery,” shrugged MC.

            Crazy and Master were wide awake.  “Let’s get to it!” they said in unison.

            MC rolled his eyes.  “The things I do for my boys,” he grumbled.

            The three of them showered, washed their faces (?) and changed clothes (??).  Then, MC teleported them to the Smashville Bakery.

            “Villager?” gasped Master.  “What are you doing here?  You should be in bed.”

            Villager just stared at them, with a wide, creepy smile and unblinking eyes.

            “Well, since you’re at the register, could you get us three cinnamon rolls and three coffees with cream?” asked MC.

            Villager silently took their money and prepared their orders.  He handed them a bag with a big, yellow, smiley-face on one side.  “Have a nice day!” he said cheerily, still smiling eerily.

            Quickly, MC teleported them back home.  They all sat in MC’s office, eating their breakfast.

            It was an early, wintery morning.  The blackness in the sky had begun to fade.  The three final bosses heard some Smashers beginning to stir.  Doors and drawers opened and closed as they attended to their toilette.  Razor blades hummed.  Showers hissed.  Whispered conversations were struck up.  The Wii Fit Trainers were the only loud ones, engaged in their morning workouts.  Outside, gray dawn approached, and the first songs of the birds were heard.  By the time the trio finished their meal, the sun was starting to play peek-a-boo.

            Just an ordinary early morning.

            So, why did the three have such a strong sense of foreboding?

            “I don’t know,” shrugged Master.  “You ask me!”

            Crazy fired him an annoyed look, but remained silent.  MC cracked a smile.

            Conversations grew louder as the Smashers fully awakened.  In the kitchen, the Miis were preparing the day’s breakfast—scrambled eggs and French toast sticks.  The smells were wiping off the last traces of drowsiness.

            “I’d better go tack up the day’s matches,” said Master.  He went to the computer and printed out a few copies of the match spreadsheets.

            MC sneaked a peek.  “That’s my boy,” he praised.  “You gave Luigi an extra-rigorous lineup today.”

            “I figured that he’ll probably need it after our talk,” reasoned Master.  He teleported away to post the lineups.

            When he returned, he sounded the breakfast call.  They listened as the Smashers left their rooms and headed for the cafeteria.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Whereas the mood in MC’s office was subdued, the mood in the cafeteria was as animated as always.  The fighters were craving for some scrambled eggs, except Yoshi and Falco, who had an egg substitute, as well as those French toast dipping sticks.  They smiled at the Miis who served up a nice portion of fresh eggs and a careful amount of dipping sticks onto their plates.  They found perfect places to sit, watching the sunrise and talking about life.  Couples flirtily fed each other French toast sticks and licked syrup off their fingers.  Lucina continued to shoot dirty looks at the Chrom look-alike.  She’d added her father’s name to the Ballot, and while she was happy with Corrin and Bayonetta, she wanted him to be more than just the Robin twins’ Final Smash.  Seeing this Mii strutting around here was an insult to injury.

            Nicely situated at a table for two, right next to the window, was Luigi.  He ate his eggs slowly and deliberately, seemingly not in a hurry to go anywhere.  His eyes were fixed on the lovely lightshow that was the sun spreading its rays all over the sky.  The fiery colors more than matched the fire that had ignited in him as soon as he saw confirmation that those three knew.  Oh, he had his suspicions from the very beginning.  Past incidents had severely eroded his trust in them, particularly the stunt that what’s-his-face pulled off.  But he needed to heal from the past and face the future head-on, and forgiveness seemed like the best way to accomplish that end.  As 2016 dawned, he genuinely felt ready to place his trust back in Master Hand, Crazy Hand and Master Core.  He’d met them halfway in their efforts to reestablish that trust.  But mere days into the New Year, he’d eavesdropped on a telling conversation between the bosses, fretting over what would happen if he found out that they knew longer than they let on.  Once upon a time, he would’ve confronted them immediately.  But nearly getting thrown out somewhat tamed his impulsiveness.  So, he resolved not to act until he’d obtained proof.  With assists from Evan and Mandy, he’d extracted the proof he needed.  And today—those three were going to soil themselves at the mere mention of his name.

            Surely, he was dressed for the occasion.  He’d washed his Fire Flower uniform yesterday.  A white ball-cap, emblazoned with a green “L” on the center.  A crisp, white shirt, as white as the white-hot passion in his soul.  Overalls the color of evergreen trees, dark balancing out the striking light.  The green color associated with a lively, healthy forest, trees waving in the wind as animals went about their daily lives.  Or a blooming garden, welcoming insects to pollinate the vibrant plants.  Vitality, liveliness, fire—they existed in his face, in his eyes and within him, in his ability to feel, to endure, to hate and to love.  Sitting here, eating his breakfast, he glowed brighter than a nightlight, the fire inside him slowly building up.  It was an amazing sensation.  He wanted to throw back his head and shout.  He wanted to light up the world with his fire.  He wanted to blaze inside the minds of others, to blaze through the darkest of nights.  He welcomed the fire.  He welcomed the fury.  His hot tongue licked traces of egg, toast and syrup from his lips.  He slid one finger at a time inside his fiery mouth, cleansing the syrup away.  He dumped his trash into the garbage bin and walked to the bathroom to wash his hands.  Allowing the water to cool his fire just a little bit.  He cupped his hands under the faucet, letting the water fill them, and then gently splashed the coolness onto his face.  That felt _good_.  Face still damp, he walked out of the bathroom, tossed a wave to his friends and brother, and headed outside.

            In the quiet solitude, he closed his eyes and pushed his tempered fire into the pit of his stomach.  Breathing, he played with it, allowing it to swell, peak, stop, swell, peak—it spoke to him, pulsed in him, filled him.  Behind his eyelids, he saw his Daisy, smiling at him, kissing him, pressed to him, gasping and sweating in bed with him.

            And his fire grew.

            That first letter in ’99.  Meeting Master for the first time.  Fighting Master for the first time.  Battling Master and Crazy together for the first time.  Master and Crazy, finding him crumpled on the ground after someone gave him a hard time, asking if he was okay but otherwise doing nothing.  Master falling under Tabuu’s control.  Fighting and defeating Tabuu.  Master promoting him to the starting roster.  Master and Crazy cheering him on at the kart race.  Master inviting him to demonstrate his combo prowess in lieu of Mario at an exhibition.

            And his fire grew.

            Master Hand falling for Stuart’s victim act and turning the other cheek as he provoked Lucina, Kirby and his other friends.  Still taking Stuart’s side even after the truth came out, giving him probation.  Shouting.  Arguing.  An expensive vase and other artifacts shattering against walls.  The Mii Fighters.  The injuries.  The big battle with the Hands and Master Core.

            And his fire grew.

            God, he was so angry.  So angry at them, and so angry at Nintendo.  They tantalized him with the hope that Daisy would make it.  As long as he lived, he’d never forget the look he saw in Daisy’s eyes that day.  Master’s apologies, Crazy’s apologies, MC’s apologies.  Their sugary sweetness.  They thought he’d never find out, but eventually, he would.  And eventually, he did.

            And his fire burned.

            He found himself seated on the floor, criss-cross-applesause.  Wii Fit Trainer talked to him in his mind, going through one of the breathing exercises they’d always do together.  It was imperative that he command and control of his fire, instead of it controlling him.  If he and Master Hand agreed on one thing regarding that incident, then it was the fact that he’d lost his temper.  He couldn’t let that happen.  He couldn’t just barge into that office, all screaming and hysterical.  He had to present his case calmly.  In the throes of his breathing exercise, his fire ebbed and flowed.  It danced deep inside him, calming and comforting him.  He would save it for something productive, like Classic Mode 9.0.  And so he sat, breathing, waiting for the images to stop flashing through his mind so he could clear them away, allowing his fire to take on the beat of his heart.

            At last, he felt well enough to open his eyes, and then to stand back up.  Sweat droplets quivered on his limbs and body as he began to walk.  He was aware of bright green flames dancing along his fingers.  His fire was building up again.  It pounded, swirled and whispered tempting things to him.  It caressed him as tenderly as his Daisy.  Some of this fire had to be released before his talk with those three.  He paused, closed his eyes, took a deep breath and let his fire erupt like a volcano, a bright, green sheet shooting up into the early morning sky.  He exhaled deeply as he felt the power of the sun shooting from his gloved hands.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            MC rushed to the window at the sight of the green, fiery torrents roaring upward.  “Boys, I think you’d better see this,” he said warily.

            Master and Crazy joined him at the window.  “Wow, what’s doing that?” asked Master.

            “It’s not a question of what,” said MC.  “It’s a question of who.”

            Looking down from the column of green fire, the trio noticed a familiar figure, wearing green and white.  His eyes were closed, a strange smile on his slightly parted lips, as he released his fire from his hands.  Sweat was running down his forehead, and his chest heaved.  Surrounding him was a strange glow.

            “Luigi,” breathed Master Hand.

            “Nobody but him can rock a Fire Flower uniform like that,” said Crazy.  “He’s looking _fabulous_!”

            Master rolled his eyes.  “You’re not helping,” he said.

            Abruptly, the fire stopped, and Luigi’s eyes slowly opened, his breathing returning to something close to normal.  The trio stopped breathing as he noticed them.  Slowly, his hands curled into fists, and he briefly fought with his face, steeling it to remain as calm as possible.  Then, he spun on his heel and rapidly headed back inside.

            “Oh, boy,” said Crazy.  “Dad, I think you’d better split until he has a chance to calm down.”

            But MC shook his head.  “We’re a family,” he said.  “We’ll do this together.”

            “Whatever’s bothering him, I hope he doesn’t take it out on us,” said Master.  “He knows what happened last time.”

            MC and Crazy hummed in agreement.

            They sat there, hoping against hope.  Should they wait until after a few of Luigi’s matches before talking to him?  That way, he’d get some of that fire out of his system.  It would reduce the chance of this meeting turning into a disaster.

            The quiet was replaced by footsteps.  Faint, but steadily growing louder.  The trio took their places behind the desk as a brisk knock sounded on the door.

            “Come in,” said Master Hand.

            The door opened, and Luigi walked in.  Face bright, glowing with energy and power.  His walk had been a bit brisk, as the pace of his breathing indicated.  But in his eyes, there was a thunderstorm brewing.  A severe supercell of a thunderstorm brewing—and seconds from breaking.

            Ominously, the door slammed shut behind the visitor.  That uniform made him look more super than his brother.  Luigi crossed the room to the desk, refusing the chair offered to him.  Gripping the sides of the desk, he leaned forward until the three could feel the heat of his fire.  And with an accusatory point of his finger, in a clear, steady voice, he spoke the two words like the first strike of lightning.

            “You knew.”


	8. Interlude: Aura Sense

**_Lucario’s POV_ **

**French toast sticks paired with scrambled eggs are my favorite, but I can hardly touch my breakfast today.  Another part of my brain has drastically drained my appetite, and that is my Aura Sense.**

**I see him, sitting beside the window, watching the sunrise.  He’s wearing green overalls, a white shirt and a white cap with a green “L” on it.  His Fire Flower uniform.  But I see something else, something that’s not detected by a human eye.  An intense green glow has encircled him, flecks of white dancing in between.  This is his Aura, and with every forkful of scrambled egg he levels into his mouth, over every bite he takes out of his French toast sticks, his Aura grows bigger.**

**As I watch him, my Aura reading is so strong that I can barely eat.  My head is beginning to pound.  I avert my eyes from him and look down at my plate.  Even without looking at him, I can detect his steadily increasing Aura.  And there is one emotion behind that Aura—anger.**

**Each different emotion gives off a different Aura.  Joy is pink.  Sadness is deep blue.  Exhaustion is light blue.  Fear is yellow.  Disgust is orange.  Envy is red.  Distrust is violet.  Passion is indigo.  Anger is green.  But this—is not what I’m used to seeing at all.  How can I explain the flashes of bright white among the green?  Is it rage?  Heroism?  Boldness?  Power?  I feel his Aura envelope me, hot and almost—electric.**

**From Day One, Luigi has always surprised me.  I have been fighting at his side since Brawl, and all that time, he’s given off some strange Auras.  During Brawl, the Auras I detected on him were a mishmash of extraordinary colors.  Dark green, black, crimson, brown, sludge colors.  I sensed darkness and torment in his soul, especially when he broke a Smash Ball.  He felt a little better after we beat Tabuu, but he still continued generating these odd colors.**

**When we returned for the fourth tournament, most of those emotions were gone.  Understandable, given the morale boost that was the Year of Luigi.  Plus, he had a new Final Smash.  Still, on the battlefield, his Aura would flash in a rainbow of colors.  Other times, indigo and green would be dominant.**

**You don’t believe me?  Well, let me tell you about the day he fought King Dedede.  I saw a lot of green flashing around him during the battle.  He was uncharacteristically savage with this one, and I heard plenty of cracking.  Then, some indigo slipped in between the blazing green as the battle wound down.  Dedede hit 999%, and I overheard somebody talking about a video.  Later, I’d find out that Dedede had video-recorded Luigi being spooked by some Waddle Dees before the king turned him into a trophy.  Which explains the angry Aura…**

**Another time was when that Simon guy tested out his videographer equipment, and we all had a 90-minute battle royale.  Luigi shouted the whole time.  I sneaked some looks at him and nearly flinched at the powerful rainbow-colored Aura he gave off.  As we watched the end result, he posed an excellent question: What did we shout in a heated battle?  Yet I couldn’t understand why he exuded such passion.**

**I’m going to pass over his fight with Stuart Bennigan because it was pretty rough on him, but I’ll tell you, a lot of Aura activity was going on there.**

**Flash-forward to last December, when we were watching the Nintendo Direct.  I was sitting in the middle row, and Luigi was sitting in front.  He was giving off this pure, white Aura I’d never seen before.  Hope, perhaps?  He really wanted Daisy to make the cut.  During intermission, he was quite restless and had to go to the little room with the arcade games and Sandbags.  I saw a rose-tinted Aura then.  But as the Smash Ballot winner was announced, his Aura became—unreadable.  I saw him slump a little in his seat.  But he didn’t seem mad—at first.**

**Weeks have passed, and the explosive Aura colors have come back.  And now, my Aura Sense is through the roof.  I feel like my head’s going to split apart.  I need to move farther away from him.  Picking up my food, I head out into the cafeteria courtyard.  My Aura reading is still strong, but bearable.  I manage to eat all of my eggs.  Once Luigi’s Aura goes down a little, I conquer the toast.**

**I go to meditate before my first match of the day.  And it is there, in my peaceful oasis, that my Aura Sense kicks back into high gear.  I bolt up, do some searching, and there he is, standing quietly, his back to me.  The blazing green of his Aura has grown taller.  It is like an internal conflagration.  Slowly, he sinks to a sitting position, cross-legged, hands on his lap, head bowed.  He is breathing heavily.  His Aura continued to flare, grows to uncontrollable, and then begins to die down somewhat.  He stands and begins to walk away.**

**From a safe distance, I follow Luigi as he takes his stroll.  I see fire in his hands that isn’t Aura.  His pace slows, and he stops near Master Hand’s office.  I feel his Aura roaring back to life.  Suddenly, he throws his head to the sky, lifts his hands and releases a stream of fire.  He starts breathing a little aggressively again.  I watch the fire surge into the sky, at the same time feeling his Aura drop like a treated fever.  At last, the fire lessens and stops, and Luigi looks at the window.  After a quick spurt of Aura, he’s on his way once more.**

**I do not know the specifics, but I know that his relationship with the Hands is strained as of late.  Stuart started it all, that’s for sure.  And his hope for Daisy, lost when Bayonetta made the cut.  I make a mental note to invite him to one of my yoga sessions once he simmers down.  As for those Hands, I know something wicked is headed their way, and I don’t want to be involved in it.**

**Ah, the power of the Aura.  Can’t live with it; can’t live without it.**


	9. Cursum Perficio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title translates to I Finish the Course. Based on the song by Enya. Its stormy nature fits the stormy mood of this chapter.

**_Cursum Perficio_ **

**_Cursum Perficio_ **

**_Cursum Perficio_ **

**_Cursum Perficio_ **

**_Cursum Perficio…_ **

 

            The only sounds in the office were the heartbeats of Master Hand, Crazy Hand and Master Core.  MC, being the most vulnerable, was floating behind his two sons in case things went wrong.  He needed space to turn into one of his combat forms, not to hurt their visitor, but to subdue him if he got too out of control.

            The desk was not a very good barrier between them.  With one hand, Luigi gripped the desk as he leaned into the trio’s personal space.  With the other, he aimed his index finger at them, driving his accusation home.  They could feel his blazing fire, swarming his entire body.  And his eyes.  They’d never forget the controlled fury in them as long as they lived.

            “L, wha—what are you talking about?” Master Hand spluttered out.

            “All this time, you knew,” said Luigi, breathing forcefully, fighting a losing battle against his emotions.  “You knew that my Daisy was not going to win.  And yet you chose not to tell me?”

            “Well, that would just ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?” Crazy said defensively.

            “You didn’t see her eyes when I went to console her,” Luigi went on.  “I did.  And no matter how hard I try, I can’t un-see them.  For all these months, she had so much hope that she’d finally appear in a game besides a sports spin-off.  You let her believe that she had a chance.  And then you tore her down.  How does that make you feel?”

            “Wait a minute,” said MC.  “How could we have known?”

            “There’s no use trying to play stupid with me,” snapped Luigi, anger and abhorrence saturating his voice and eyes.  “I know _everything_.  Your late-night conversations about keeping this from me.  The little bar-graph Nintendo sent you.  Poking and prodding my brother and my friends about how I’m taking the news.  You were never sorry for me.  You were just being extra-nice so I wouldn’t find out.”

            “But…how…?” stammered Master.

            “Don’t you remember?  Your little get-together at Mr. V’s?  The extra pancakes?  That was all planned.”

            Crazy gaped.  “I knew there was something else in those pancakes!” he cried.

            “That’s right, Crazy.  Truth serum.  A dose so small that it was easily metabolized in your system.  That explains the lack of tipsiness normally associated with it.  Worked like a charm.”

            “We trusted you,” gasped MC, “and Evan and Mandy, too.  How could you do this to us after everything we’ve been through?”

            “You mean, everything I’ve been through _because of you_ ,” clarified Luigi.  “I really wanted to trust you again.  And I wanted you to trust _me_ again.  Oh, we were off to such a great start.  2016 was slated to be the year we made up.  I was just about to fully forgive you for that incident.  But you changed that in the blink of an eye.  You just had to play a game with me and Daisy.”

            “Even if we told you the second we found out, what purpose would that have served?” Master demanded hotly.

            “Maybe it would’ve lessened the blow.  We would’ve had more time to process,” explained Luigi, “but that was too hard for you.  You had to keep both of us hanging onto threads of false hope, and then you snipped those threads, sending us falling without anything or anyone to catch us.  How does that make you feel?  Have you gone out for drinks with the suits of Nintendo, congratulating them for screwing over the man in green—again?”

            “We never screwed you over, L,” MC said sternly.  “The only people who did that to you were the ones picking on you.  We’re sorry that Daisy didn’t get in.  We truly are.  But you need to calm down.”

            “I have no intention of calming down!” spat Luigi.  “I’m tired of getting beaten up and knocked around by people!  They use my escapades and brotherly loyalty against me!  They exploit my situation just so they can cash it in big!  Heck, they even tried to profit from my Death Stare!  And you!  I will always have the conviction that you invited me here as an afterthought, since I’m Mario’s little brother.  What else can explain being last on the tier list, or an inferior clone, or a secret character, or the punching bag du jour?!  You never cared about me!  You just wanted Mario’s favor!”

            “You’re right,” said Crazy.  “We should’ve been there for you, but we weren’t.  But you know what—we are now.  We want to help you.  And we _do_ care about you.  When you got hurt in 3-Minute Smash, my bro sat at your bedside.  We did that boss battle with you so you could let out all of your aggression.  We gave you two weeks off so you could recuperate.  We changed the rules and adopted a tougher stance on bullying.”

            “Guess what?  You were too late,” said Luigi, face streaked with tears of rage.  He couldn’t hold this in any longer.  Soon, someone was going to pay.  “You were always too late.  By the time you discovered what I’d been going through, the damage had already been done.  I gave you plenty of chances to come to my aid, to be there for me.  You passed up those opportunities.  You blew it, big time.”

            “If you’re going to get mad like that, then I’m going to suspend you,” warned Master.  “For real, this time.  No commutations.  And it just might be for a very long time.”

            “Mad?” asked Luigi, and then he laughed.  “Who said I was mad?  Oh, no, no.  When someone messes with my Princess, I don’t get mad.  I get even.”

            “You still have that ticket I gave you?” asked Crazy.

            Luigi nodded.

            “Good.  Here’s two more.”  Crazy flicked two more Endless Smash tickets forward.  “And here’s one for Cruel Smash.”  Another ticket.  “Fight your matches.  Use these tickets.  Get this out of your system, and fast.  And if you still feel raw about it…”

            “…you know where to find us,” finished Master.

            “We’ll be ready and waiting,” added MC.

            Luigi eased himself off the desk, thinking it over.  Then, a frightening smile stretched across his face.  “I think I have a better idea,” he told them.

            “And what is that?” Master wanted to know.

            That was when Luigi finally allowed his fire to break the surface.  With a battle cry, he sent waves and waves of green flames at the three bosses.  They screamed in agony as the blistering heat drowned them.  The air reeked of burning rubber, flesh and dark matter.  At last, the assault ended, and Luigi casually examined his handiwork.  The three were writhing about on the ground, putting out the flames.  The Hands’ gloves were peeling away, revealing badly burnt skin.  MC was blackened with soot.  Concentrating hard, he summoned a beam of bright light over himself and his sons.  The awful burns receded, the gloves repaired, and MC was as good as new.

            “Surprise, L,” he chuckled.  “Bet you didn’t know I had this ability, did you?  How do you think we rematerialize after boss battles?”

            “Don’t worry,” Luigi shot back.  “I don’t aim to take your lives.  But by the time I’m finished with you, you’re going to regret every time you disregarded me.”

            “Oh, want to get it over and done now, don’t you?” hissed Master.  “Well, what are we waiting for?  If it’s a boss battle you want, _then it’s a boss battle you’ll get_!”

            “C’mon, boys,” said MC.  “Time to settle this in Smash!  We’ll see you in five, L.”

            “Oh, I’ll be there before you know it,” smiled Luigi.

            “May the best Smasher win,” said Crazy, and with that, the three filed out, leaving Luigi to psych himself up for another boss battle.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

**_Cursum Perficio_ **

**_Cursum Perficio_ **

**_Cursum Perficio_ **

**_Cursum Perficio_ **

**_Cursum Perficio…_ **

 

            “Well, here we go again,” said MC.  “You boys ready?”

            “Ready!” chorused the Hands.

            “You think you’ll handle this one?” asked Master.

            “Sure!” crowed MC.  “I’m not completely spent yet!”

            “Somehow I knew he was going to find out,” mused Crazy.

            “Well, he’s looking for a fight, so we’ll give him one,” said Master.  “Besides, it would benefit the four of us to get all of this tension out of our systems, yes?”

            “Guess so,” said Crazy.

            “All right,” said MC.  “We’re going to do this a little differently.  Huddle up, team.”

            They formed a huddle, and MC began whispering to them…

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

**Verbum sapienti:**

**Eo plus cupiunt,**

**Verbum sapienti;**

**Eo plus cupiunt.**

**Verbum sapienti;**

**Eo plus cupiunt…**

**Post nubila, Phoebus**

**Post nubila, Phoebus**

**Post nubila, Phoe…ebus!**

           Surrounded by colors, stars, planets and other cosmic bodies, Luigi waited.  His fire and fury circulated within him like a violent thunderstorm.  This battle would be different from the last one, he knew it.  Every ounce of his residual hurt from the previous year was going to be emptied onto the final bosses.  He blamed Daisy’s rejection primarily on Nintendo, secondarily on the bosses and tertiarily on those who didn’t vote for her.  Who could blame him?  He’d tried so hard not to hold a grudge, but this was his Princess, for goodness sake!  Nobody tossed her aside like garbage and got away with it!

            His ears perked up at Master Hand’s familiar laugh, followed by Crazy Hand’s cackle.  He began to take deep breaths, finding his focus.  Despite his white-hot anger, this was a boss battle, and he had to watch out for devastating attacks at all times.  They would try to take advantage of his emotions, try to provoke him into making critical mistakes.  Keeping cool was key to holding fast to his two stocks.

            Above him, Master and Crazy did their signature brofist.  “Hey, L,” sang out Crazy.  “We decided to make this a little easier for you.  Instead of five minutes, we’ll give you twenty!”

            “Much appreciated,” said Luigi, surprisingly sincere.

            For a moment, a small smile replaced the strong emotions on his visage.  They actually _did_ care about him, in their own strange way.  Seconds later, his thawed eyes were again ice, and stone shoved the softness off his face.

            “Let’s Smash!” cried Master.

            Luigi allowed himself one last deep breath.  He put up his dukes.  “Let’s-a go,” he stated in a low, determined voice.

            Instead of attacking Master first, as he always had, he landed his first blow on Crazy, an especially powerful spearhand thrust.  This time, risks were going to be taken.  He felt a little adventurous, so he jumped and leaped, dishing out aerial attacks when safe and fast-falling at the first sign of danger.  He’d use one as a shield by sliding over to the wrist and assailing it with powerful blows.  Or, he’d let loose with his fire, weakening one so he wouldn’t come to the other’s aid.  Recently, he’d bought himself some new shoes, but he still slipped and slid around Final Destination, sometimes into one of the Hands’ grasps!  As they squeezed, he’d struggle madly.  They’d either throw him into the air or put him to sleep and place him onto the stage.  Unlike last time, they didn’t debate whether or not to leave him be.  They’d take advantage of his incapacitated state to batter him as relentlessly as he battered them.  He’d always pull himself together and recover in time.

            Last time, they mostly executed single attacks.  Not this time.  Their cunning team attacks would be the brunt of their strategy.  Luigi wouldn’t know what was coming.  They managed to tack on more damage than last time by whacking him, sandwiching him, ramming him, drilling him, mashing him and hitting him with energy balls, among other things.  Master would do a simple attack while Crazy did a more complex one, like tearing holes in space and jamming pink rods of dark energy onto the stage.  Master’s famous Flying Punch would force Luigi into the air—straight into Crazy’s trap!  No wonder they gave him fifteen extra minutes!  There always had to be a catch!

            No matter.  Luigi knew how to rework his strategy as needed.  He made sure he was breathing steadily at all times.  He shielded.  He ducked, dodged, sidestepped, backflipped and cartwheeled.  He watched for helpless moments in his opponents’ attacks so he could counterattack with a smash or two (or seven).  His emotions were flowing fast from destructive tendencies to productive ones.  They were becoming much-needed energy.  He’d equipped himself with some custom-made clothes, as well.  Auto-healing, faster speed, higher jumping and an explosive perfect shield—why didn’t he think of customizing himself the first time around?  His Brawn Badge came in handy when he threw Smash attacks.  His Agility Badge helped in defensive play.  And small bits of his health replenishing over time could really add up!

            Luigi was not too breathless to keep from hollering.  The excess emotions escaped in the form of exclamations or sweat.  It dribbled down his neck and chin and into his mouth as slammed into one or the other with the Green Missile or spun around rapidly, scoring multiple hits on both opponents.  He could Super Jump Punch his way to safety or subtract a nice amount of hit points from a foe.  But they were still crafty, simultaneously shooting lasers, crashing atop him from above (sometimes burying him) and kissing up some more coordinated attacks.  Their HP was in the red, but instead of wavering, their aggression and persistence grew.  They sure learned their mistakes from the last time!

            Well, since they were changing things, Luigi figured that he should, too.  He called forth a power taught to him nearly thirteen years ago—the power of lightning.  Blue electricity writhed round his fists, doubling the power of his attacks.  Lightning bolts sizzled into the Hands, making them twitch and spasm.  This threw some of their attacks out of control until they recovered; then they really made him pay till he stunned them with thunderbolts once more.  Electricity and fire alternated in his hands, so bright, so intense.  A few distinct _cracks_ echoed in the room.  The Hands’ gloves were torn again; the skin beneath them gashed and singed, the faint whiteness of bone poking through.  Crimson drooled over white, which only inflamed Luigi.  Swelling was around both of his eyes, his nose was puffy and bloodied, and he was battered all over his body.  His lips were torn, and he ached from all that squeezing.  It only served to feed his fire.

            Luigi targeted Crazy now.  Once again electrifying his fists, he clubbed the glove over and over with his quick, overhead, downward strike.  The last hit was too much, and the Hand let out a high-pitched scream and sailed off into the distance, squirming in agony.  Luigi spun around and thrust his hand into the space between Master’s thumb and forefinger.  Then, he jumped and attacked with his corkscrew kick, meteor-smashing him.  When Master bounced back up from the platform, Luigi was all over him, unleashing electric karate chops.  So, Master started throwing those gold platforms.  It was half as impactful, since Crazy wasn’t waiting to entrap Luigi.  The green man couldn’t stand still for a second.  Master attended to that problem by snapping his fingers, and then blasting into the air and drilling himself into the dizzy man.  From there, he Finger Walked him into the edge of the platform and then grabbed, squeezed, tossed and repeated until Luigi tore himself free.  He was back to smash-attacking, heavy on his forward and down smashes, draining his energy.

            And with one last breakdance sweep, Luigi triumphed once more against Master Hand.  The disembodied glove wailed as he shot off the stage.

            “See you soon,” Luigi called after him.

            “L, you owe us big time for this!” screamed Master.

            Luigi flopped forward onto his belly, taunting.  “I doubt it,” he murmured.

            “Take it away, Dad!” hollered Crazy as the familiar blackness began to swirl round the plumber.

            Instead of Master Giant, MC made his dramatic entrance as Master Beast.  “We meet again,” he growled, ravenously licking his lips.

            Luigi copied that action.  He, too, was hungry.  So hungry.  Hungry for this animal’s flesh against his fists.  Hungry for retribution, for justice—for vengeance.

            “Where’s the giant?” he asked calmly.

            “Sorry, he’s out to lunch,” hissed MB, “but you’ll see him soon.  Now, let’s get to it!”

            Luigi put up his dukes.  He breathed, and breathed, and breathed.

            MB brandished his spiky tail, treated with dark energy, and savagely attacked Luigi with it.  Luigi cleverly used his fireballs to escape, immediately launching into an impressive display of smash attacks on the creature’s middle body.  He shook some sweat from his eyes and onto the beast.  MB dealt some more hurt than last time, but like last time, Luigi ignored it.  He moved fluidly about Final Destination, getting an attack in, maybe a combo, maybe a Cyclone or Missile, a fireball, some lightning.  MB landed some successful hits of his own, and then he summoned shadowy spikes to launch at Luigi, tearing into him with his tail while he was thus distracted.  But this man in green was undeterred.  Marching up to his snout, he poured some fire into his nostrils.  MB screeched as smoke and steam poured from his nose and mouth.  Luigi rained kicks, karate chops, jabs and knifehand thrusts on the snout, grabbing spasmodic breaths as he did.  He knocked MB flat onto his back with a nice-sized lightning ball, and then he spun into him with his Cyclone a few times until the beast’s claws grabbed him and slammed him onto the floor.

            “Mortal,” he sneered.  “You dare to challenge me?  You attempt to defeat me?  I am unstoppable.  I will come back again and again.”

            “So will I,” Luigi said levelly as MB’s black tongue snaked up his body, licking the blood from his wounds as the claws of his free hand made more.  “I will die a thousand deaths if need be.  I will keep fighting and fighting, and you can’t stop me.”

            “You taste good,” said MB, salivating.

            Luigi reared up and bit one of his limbs.  “Yeah.  So do you,” he replied.  “Didn’t I set this thing to 9.0?  It’s different.”

            “9.0?  L, you are experiencing Classic Mode 9.1!” cackled MB.  He cradled Luigi in his claws—and then slowly slid the struggling man into his maw, caressing him with his fat, thick lips.  “Now quit yammering, and get in my belly!”

            Unfortunately, this meal gave him heartburn.  Literally.  MB shuddered and opened his mouth, green fire spouting from it.  Then, he coughed and went limp, mouth still open, where Luigi clawed his way to freedom.  He was covered in blood and all sorts of things we don’t want to think about.  Once back on solid ground, he turned to look at MB.  He was still alive, but weak.

            Luigi stormed over to him, rounded his lips, and aimed a thick spout of bloody saliva at one of its eyes.  “You’re sick,” he spat.

            “What?  You started it,” accused MB.

            “Oh?  Then allow me to end it!” exclaimed Luigi, launching his hand as hard as he could into MB’s face.  Roaring in pain, he burst into black swirls.

            Then, Master Giant took his place.

            “Hi, hi, hi,” sang out MG.  “Remember me?”

            “Indeed.  You were a tough one,” said Luigi.  He taunted MG before lunging right at its face.  He got in some powerful attacks before MG spawned his extra arms.

            “I hate those things,” breathed Luigi as he prepared to dodge and leap.

            And dodge and leap he did, counterattacking when the moment was right, flicking blood and goo from his body and straight at MG, getting his respirations back on track.  Under his clothes, he felt the droplets of cool sweat.  He danced and twirled as MG’s extra fists slammed into the stage mere meters from him.  Sometimes, they stuck for a bit, a ripe opportunity for a smash attack.  Then, MG’s other two arms grabbed the stage and lifted it, making the ground unstable and causing Luigi to stumble into the hammering fists.

            “You don’t fight fair,” Luigi told MG.  “But that’s okay—see if I care!”

            He charged up his Green Missile and rammed into the side of MG’s face.  He got up and ran at him again, only for MG to snatch him off the platform.  He threw fireballs at the abomination as he was unceremoniously shoved deep into the core of MG’S being.

            It was dark in there.  Flexible walls stretched, squeezed and squished him.  He didn’t enjoy his first stay inside MG, and this was even worse.  He heard laughter as he suppressed cries of pain.  Then, his fire, his saving grace, lit right back up.  The walls dried and shriveled, flames bursting from MG’s chest as Luigi made good his escape.  He kept up his fiery assault until the extra fists blocked it, and then he went back to evading and attacking.  At last, he saw an opening for the finishing blow, spearing his hand straight into MG’s nose.

            “That’s from Daisy!” hollered Luigi as he planked, awaiting the next being.

            The five blades of Master Edges surrounded Luigi.  “Hey, L!” they said.  “Which do you prefer—sliced or diced?”

            Luigi’s eyes flicked from sharp blade to sharp blade, wetting his lips, breathing deeper and slower, assessing his body, his health and his energy.  ME closed in on him in a way reminding him of those Mii Fighters.  He’d probably pay them a visit after this.  The largest blade hovered before his face, the two smallest at his sides, and the middle at his stomach.

            “We didn’t get that, L?  Which do you prefer?” ME asked again.

            Luigi, in the throes of a breathing exercise, ignored them at first.  They got their answer in the form of his heartbeat, so loud that they thought it was outside him.  Each blade caught a sweat droplet on the tip, or a blood droplet.  They were excited at the sensation of their challenger’s sweat.  But it was warm, not cold.  He wasn’t afraid.  Not anymore.

            “Which do _you_ prefer?” he asked finally.  “Bruised or broken?”

            Furiously, they engaged in battle.

            Their attack of choice was to surround, slash away, and let the big blade finish the job.  Luigi always sidestepped it, assailing it as it tried to get unstuck.  ME tried out all sorts of slash combinations, paying the price as the blades tried to regroup.  Tiring of this, ME brought the small and large dark energy orbs into play, now with better homing abilities.  He shielded, weaved, jumped and dodged, but sometimes, the orbs managed to bring him within range of the blades’ attacks.  He literally fought fire with fire, tossing in some electrified blows for extra damage.  A blade sliced into his nose, and as he gasped, another got him in the shoulder.  Wildly, he swatted them away and hurled his fireballs at them, trying to ignore the stinging and bleeding.  As he tried to regroup, they ripped into him again.

            “That’s it!” cried Luigi.  He brandished his hammer and started pounding away at ME.  Shocked and not knowing how to combat such a weapon, the blades retreated.  The heavier blows caused all of Final Destination to rumble.  With one last slam, ME was done for.

            A Heart Container appeared right in front of him.  Laughing, Luigi grabbed it, and once his health had been restored, he took on Master Fortress.  WELCOME.  MAKE YOURSELF AT HOME, read a mat at its entrance.  There seemed to be some sort of shindig going on in MF, as more enemies than usual stuffed it.  As Luigi battled them, he remembered seeing a few of them from Smash Runs.  No time to think about that now.  He found the first core, decimating it easily.  Then, he jogged upstairs, struggled through some more enemies, narrowly avoided that yellow death trap and showed off his breakdancing prowess to the second core.  He braced himself for the shock as he was thrown back onto Final Destination.

            Quickly, he got back to his feet and trekked back inside MF.  The third core was always dangling off the edge.  He managed to take it down with a few down aerials.  Finally, the hardest one to get to.  Narrow corridors, skeleton guards, moving platforms and more of that yellow substance which burned something fierce if he got in it.  After much effort, he located the final core and attacked it with a combination of smashes until all of MF gave way.

            Standing in darkness, Luigi caught his breath.  Then—

            “Oh, yeah!  Luigi time!”

            Luigi whirled.  “Oh.  You,” he murmured.

            Master Shadow smiled at him.  “Let’s see if your skills improved, mortal me,” he said.

            Luigi gave him a wry look.  “I don’t think it’s _my_ skills I should worry about,” he said pointedly.

            “Want to put your money where your mouth is?”

            “Sure!”  Luigi aimed a spinning kick at MS’s jaw.

            MS not only copied his moves, but he also copied his voice, his style—everything!  Even the silly way he pulled on his nose!  Spoilsport!  Surprisingly, MS was cake compared to the other forms.  Or maybe it was because he was used to it all.  They danced, clashed and attacked in perfect synchronization.  They grabbed, pummeled and threw.  MS shared Luigi’s custom equipment, but with a stronger effect.  Luigi didn’t care.  With his blistering and often electric attacks, he weakened MS, making him smaller and smaller.  Soon, he was no taller than a liter of soda.  Luigi easily picked him up—and tickled him.

            “No!  How did you find out I was ticklish?!” chortled MS.

            “I think I would know plenty about myself,” retorted Luigi as he mercilessly tickled his clone.  MS howled with laughter, thrashing and twisting in Luigi’s grip.  The fun ended, though, when he found himself dangled over the edge.

            “Bye-bye,” said Luigi, dropping MS like a stone.

            “FFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU….” Yelled MS as he fell into the abyss below.

            Now, for the easy part.

            Master Core gently floated onto the stage, resigned to his fate.  “Lay it on me, L,” he said calmly.  “I guess I earned it—again.”

            “That you did,” Luigi told him before launching into his grand finale, hollering the whole time.

            Twenty seconds later, MC was sent flying into the distance and KO’d.  Luigi smiled and struck a series of awesome poses for the spectators.  Those three thought they had him this time.  But again, they’d failed to stop him.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

**_Quo plus habent,_ **

**_Eo plus cupiunt._ **

**_Quo plus habent,_ **

**_Eo plus cupiunt._ **

**_Quo plus habent,_ **

**_Eo plus cupiunt…_ **

**_Post nubila, Phoebus_ **

**_Post nubila, Phoebus_ **

**_Post nubila, Phoe-ebus!_ **

****

Thanks to MC’s healing powers, the four recovered quickly from their wounds.  They headed back to Master’s office, chatting like old friends.

            “All right, L,” said Master once they were situated.  “We finally got that out of the way.  Now, it’s time for talking and listening.”

            Luigi sat calmly and listened.

            “Not telling anyone in advance was the fun part of the Smash Ballot,” said Master.  “It kept everyone in suspense, guessing up till the very end.  Besides, someone finding out early would’ve leaked it to everyone, and that would’ve been a huge mess.”

            “I still think you deprived Daisy of a chance,” said Luigi, his voice slightly raw from all that shouting.

            “We know,” said MC, “and for that, we sincerely apologize.  Can you find it in your heart to forgive us?”

            Luigi closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat.  “We’ll just have to see,” he whispered slyly before falling into the land of Nod.

            “Yeah,” mumbled MC. “Guess so.”

            Master Hand gently tucked a blanket around the resting plumber and put on some easy listening music for him to enjoy.

            “C’mon, guys.  I’m famished,” he said.

 

**_Post nubila, Phoebus_ **

**_Post nubila, Phoebus_ **

**_Post nubila, Phoe-e—ebus!_ **

**_Eternum…_ **

**_Eternum…_ **

**_Eternum…_ **

**_Eternum!_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prose translation: I finish the course. A word to the wise: the more one has, the more they want. After the clouds, comes the sunlight. Forever.


	10. Fallen Embers

_Can you find it in your heart to forgive us_?

            Master Core’s question rang in Luigi’s mind, even in slumber.  He was aware of a blanket tucked around him, and of Master Hand carrying him to his room.  His fire had burned itself down by now—the fight had blasted most of it out of him.  But he remembered how hurt Daisy was.  He didn’t like seeing her hurt or sad.  Anyone making her that way had to answer to him, no questions asked.

            But—those three _did_ try to console them.  They didn’t rub the loss in their faces.  They even offered to help them.  Luigi was so frazzled and confused.  Would he be able to forgive them?  Since the Stuart episode, his guard was up whenever he interacted with the final bosses.  He still doubted their fortitude as the leaders of Smash, still remembered being treated as the bad guy while the actual bad guy got off scot-free.  He’d given love, loyalty and trust to all of the Smashers, and some of them had thrown it all away.  Trust issues had no doubt emerged from the bad experience.  With the Hands’ scant actions regarding this, they didn’t make him feel as safe as they used to.

            Luigi felt himself being placed on his bed.  Automatically, he snuggled up and smiled.  His body was repairing itself from the boss battle, and he didn’t feel any emotion anymore.  He was just too drained.  It was time to rest.  To think.  To ponder over his next move.

            “I don’t know, Master Hand,” he murmured as the Hand in question tucked him in like a child.  “I just don’t know.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Dreams.

            Some of them were signs to Luigi.  Others were just—dreams.  When he got hurt in 3-Minute Smash, he dreamed about being in Evershade Valley with Elvin Gadd.  As soon as he woke up, he vacationed there for two weeks.  It had cleansed him of so much stress, and when he returned, he performed better than ever.

            These dreams weren’t signs.  They were snippets of what was and what could’ve been.  One dream blended into another so quickly that he had no time to react to them.  And then the dreams blurred and went away, leaving nothing but deep sleep and comforting warmth.  Sleep repaired his body, and it would also repair his mind.

            Before an even deeper sleep consumed him, he remembered dreaming about spaghetti.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            The real world called back to him.

            It started off in a small piece of his mind, spreading to the rest of the neurons in his brain.

            Gradually, he felt the grip of slumber slackening on him.

            He was conscious of a few voices, of footsteps, of commotion.

            His dream faded into oblivion, and light flashed on his closed eyelids.

            The soft bed under him.  The embracing covers.  The pillow.  Slowly, his body shifted, stirring back to life.

            His eyes blinked open.  The sun shone through the window, on him.  It renewed and rejuvenated him.

            His limbs stretched, and he yawned.

            Slowly, Luigi sat up on the bed.  The TV was on mute, Evan hardly paying attention to it as he texted someone—probably Mandy—on his cell phone.  Luigi slid out from under the covers and wiggled his toes under his peppermint-stripe socks.  His hair was a mess beneath his cap, and the corners of his mouth were sticky with dried spit.  He could feel small trickles of fire and lightning returning to him, warming him up, energizing him.

            Luigi smiled.

            “Good to have you back, man,” said Evan, looking up from his cell phone.

            “Hey, Evan,” said Luigi, his voice a little funny from sleep.  “You and Mandy may want to keep your distance from them till they have a chance to calm down.”

            Evan laughed.  “Aw, they’ll get over it,” he said.  “Had to do what we had to do.”

            “What time is it?  What did I miss?” asked Luigi.

            “It’s almost noon,” replied Evan.  “You didn’t miss much, really.  I watched your battle with Mario, Peach, Yoshi and Rosalina in tow.  Even Koopa was cheering you on.”

            “Koopa?” Luigi raised an eyebrow.  “Who else was there?”

            “Ness, Lucas, Olimar, Alph, Little Mac, Doc, Pikachu, Jiggly, Zelda and Sheik,” said Evan.  “I saw Lucina, the Robins, Roy, Marth and the angel twins.  Ryu went straight from a fight to see it, and even Cloud.  So, you had a lot of people rooting for you.”

            “Any Smasher you know who _didn’t_ want Daisy in Smash?” asked Luigi.

            Evan pursed his lips.  “Not off the top of my head,” he said.  Suddenly, his eyes flared.  “I know plenty who snickered behind your back about it.  They insulted her, they called her a Peach clone, they said she was too prissy to be in Smash—and some more explicit things that I’d rather not repeat.”

            Luigi was pulling on his shoes now.  “Explicit things?  Like what?” he demanded.

            Evan dropped his voice.  “Sexually harassing things.  Like how some wanted her in Smash so they could ‘have some fun’ with her.  Comments about the way she dresses when she plays sports.  I’ve even picked up some kidnapping threats…”

            “Koopa!” Luigi said instantly.

            “Yeah—and a few others,” added Evan.

            “And when did you find out about this?” Luigi asked in a chilly tone.

            Evan looked away.  “I…”

            Luigi waved it away.  “No matter,” he said.  “As long as you told me.”

            Evan did his best to hide his relief.  “Do you know any people back home who don’t like Daisy?” he asked.

            “Besides Koopa and Waluigi?  I don’t think so.”  Luigi rubbed a sore muscle.  “Actually, Waluigi wants her to himself.”

            “Go on Miiverse,” said Evan.  “You’ll find plenty of dirty little secrets there.”

            “Oh, I have my suspicions already,” Luigi said tightly.  “I have plenty of suspicions.  But I’m quite popular on Miiverse.  I’ll get those haters to sing in no time!”

            He took a deep breath.  “So, what did you do afterwards?”

            “I played Trophy Rush and Cruel Smash,” replied Evan, “and then I had a one-on-one with Marth, followed by a free-for-all with DK, Diddy and Meta Knight.  My next match is another free-for-all against Mewtwo, Charizard, Pikachu and Falco.  You may want to check your schedule—Master probably gave you an interesting lineup to make up for the boss battle.”

            “Okeydokey,” said Luigi.  He went to the bathroom, stripped off his Fire Flower uniform and stepped into the shower.  He winced as he brushed a few forming scabs and bruises.  The strawberry-banana scented body wash and water quenched the stirring heat inside him, washing away his turmoil, his unpleasant memories and everything else his sleep hadn’t cleansed.  He stared coolly at the cloudy, grayish-brown water rushing down the drain.  Bits of old skin mingled with the grit, blood and residual feelings toward Master Hand, Crazy Hand and Master Core.  He couldn’t help but lather himself up a second time, a little slower, cleansing a little deeper.  And when he was finished, he made the water as cold as he could bear and stood in the pour, leaning against a wall for support, eyes closed, moaning in enjoyment, as it poured over his sore, yet firecracker-ridden, body.

            Luigi felt much better now.  He stepped out of the shower, patted himself dry and picked out a good outfit.  An orange shirt and cap with light blue overalls won his favor.  He tossed his sweaty, stinky, blood-stained Fire-Flower outfit into the laundry chute, pulled on a fresh pair of gloves, and studied himself.  Everything was perfect.

            “All right!” crowed Evan.  “You look like a man on a mission!”

            “I am,” smiled Luigi.  “Rest up, Evan.  See you in a few.”

            “Have fun, and be careful.”

            “Oh, I will.  You bet I will!”

            With a final smile, Luigi was out the door.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Master Hand was eating his lunch when he heard the knock on the door.

            _God, please, kill me now_ , he thought.  “Yes?” he said aloud.

            “Hi.  May I come in?” Luigi asked politely.

            “Only if you promise not to burn me this time,” said Master.

            “Okay, I promise.”

            “Enter.”

            Luigi sidled in, injuries nicely healed up, in a clean pair of clothes.  A solemn, contemplative look was on his face.  Intensity still radiated about him, but it was quickly flowing from action to words.

            “Hi, Master Hand,” he said finally.  “I thought long and hard about the events of this morning, and…” He took a breath.  “I just feel like I’ve been strung along and thrown to the lions, you know?  Like they’re going to make things better, only for them to change their minds and say, ‘Just kidding, ha-ha-ha’.  And it hurts—it hurts so much.  The fact that you and your family played dumb convinced me that you were in on the whole scheme.  With that being said, you, Crazy and MC have a lot of work to do if you want to re-earn my favor.”

            “We know you’re upset, and you have every right to be,” said Master.  “Know this, though, we weren’t trying to string you along.  We didn’t play dumb to pull a dirty number on you.  We just wanted it to be a surprise, that’s all.”

            “It was a surprise, all right,” Luigi told him.  “Not the best surprise in the world, but a surprise nonetheless.  Oh, and thanks for letting me sleep a little while.”

            “You needed it,” smiled Master.  “It really calmed you down.”

            “I’m still pumped from the whole thing,” clarified Luigi, “and I’m still pretty steamed.  At you three and at Nintendo, particularly.”

            “We’ll make it up to you,” promised Master.  “We don’t know how or when, but we’ll rectify things between us.”

            “Oh, I just bet you will,” Luigi said pointedly.  “I just thought I’d run it by you before I go fight my other matches.  And who knows?  Maybe I’ll drop by for another go at you three afterwards.  You really set me off, that’s for sure.”  He plucked the uneaten half of Master’s sandwich off the desk and took a bite.

            “L!  Dad specially made that for me!” balked Master.

            “Apologies.  Fighting you guys really took a lot out of me.  Well, glad I could talk to you, Master Hand.”  He smiled.  “Gotta run.”

            Luigi walked out of the office, noshing on the sandwich.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Fighting a psychic Pokémon and a tireless wanderer, dueling a masked, round knight, battling two bluenettes and a redhead and then tangling with the Mii Fighters for the rest of the afternoon worked wonders on Luigi’s raw feelings.  Ryu, especially, was a good release.  A little payback was in order from their first encounter at Suzaku Castle, where the martial artist had endeavored to trash-talk him into submission.  Sure, Ryu had swung by his room with some street food to call a truce, but although forgiveness was good for the soul, it wouldn’t make the words go away.  Ryu had gained a powerful thrust of respect for Luigi following what he’d seen that morning.  Such a man holding his own against the two Hands and the powerful, dark force that was Master Core!  The matter of whose Shoryuken was better was trivial now.  And during the free-for-all against the plumber and Mewtwo at Unova Pokémon League, he’d been given something extra to think about as N’s Castle Medley blasted on the loudspeakers.  Luigi had cut a striking figure on the battle stage, and there was such—strength—in his eyes and heart.  In the end, he placed second, since Mewtwo had beaten him by one K.O.  But he wasn’t here to win.  He was here to make friends and release stress.

            “Don’t tell me you’re still mad over the day we met,” Ryu had said to Luigi once Xander announced the results.

            Luigi had given him a meaningful look.  “I am,” he’d said honestly.  “I didn’t think a fighter like you would make hasty judgments like that.”

            “I was just going by what I was told about you,” Ryu had explained.  “In my heart, though, I wanted to do battle with you because I was interested in your fighting style.  In how different you were from your brother.  I wanted to determine if you were a worthy foe.  And you were.  Are we even now?”

            Luigi had patted him on the back.  “It’s all out of my system now,” he’d assured him.

            Ryu had nodded, and the two had embraced.  Another step in the right direction.

            _I must say_ , Mewtwo had telepathically broken in, _the display you showed the bosses and to the both of us was quite—out of character_.

            Luigi had narrowed his eyes at the psychic.  “What do you mean?” he’d asked.

            _Well, I’ve known you since Melee.  And while you showed enthusiasm in your battles back then, I’d never seen you really in the thick of the fray_.

            “Then I guess you have more catching up to do,” Luigi had stated simply.

            _Okay, but try not to keep up this silly moping over your girlfriend for too long, yes?  It is quickly getting tiresome.  You are not the only Smasher here who has experienced hardship in their lives._

            “I’m not moping over anything,” Luigi had objected.

            _That’s what you think, but I’m psychic.  I can sense things others can’t.  Well, except Lucario, because he has an aura.  So my advice to you would be to pull your sorry self together, man up and snap out of it._

            “Lay off, Mewtwo,” Ryu had said.  “It’s good that he gets this out of his system.  It’ll help him to focus.”

            “He’s right,” Luigi had joined in, “and psychic or not, you have no authority to stick your nose in my business.  I’ll have you know that I’ve accepted the results of the Smash Ballot, and whatever beef I’m having with the Hands or with Nintendo is none of your concern.”

            _Humph!  Think what you like._

            The conversation with Mewtwo had set off some bad vibes and suspicions.  Luigi had made a mental note to speak to Evan and Mandy about it.

            Internally seething over being referred to as a sulk, Luigi had ventured to the deck of the Halberd to clear his head.  Meta Knight saw him and challenged him to single combat, also impressed by his victory over the final bosses.  Luigi had promptly accepted, and in the ensuing duel, both sides had held nothing back.  In the middle of their clash, Mario and Kirby had dropped in to silently spectate.  The battle had ended in a draw, with Meta Knight’s mask broken, and the two had shaken hands while the two witnesses sighed in relief.

            “I had high hopes for my comrades, Blade and Sword, to make it into this tournament,” Meta Knight had confessed once he’d caught his breath.  “I, too, am upset at those three and at Nintendo.  You are free to make your own decisions, but I advise you to stay focused on what you wish to accomplish.  _Vaya con Dios_ , L.”  Then, he’d vanished with a twirl of his cape.

            Luigi’s fury at Mewtwo had dulled by the time he traveled to Castle Siege to fight Roy, Marth and Lucina.  Three swordfighters against an empty-handed plumber sounded like a poor match-up, but Luigi didn’t really care if nobody else believed, ’cause he’d still got a lot of fight left in him.  Along with the fire and thunder, of course.  Long story short, he’d beaten them.  Roy and Lucina were very gracious about it, but Marth…

            “Geez, Marth.  What’s gotten into you?” Roy had asked his friend.

            Marth had pouted, mumbling something in Japanese.

            “Throughout Melee, Brawl and the last two years of this tournament, you’ve been friendly with him,” Lucina had said.  “Are you having a bad day?”

            Marth had again spoken in Japanese, shooting Luigi a contemptuous smirk.

            “Marth, for star’s sake,” Luigi had sighed.  “That was a good fight.  If something’s bothering you, go talk to Master Hand about it.”

            “I believe there are far pressing matters to worry about than your lady getting rejected,” Marth had said haughtily.

            “If you feel that way, then why were you cheering me on this morning?” Luigi had demanded of the Hero King.

            “Because I was amused seeing you throw a hissy fit over nothing,” Marth had scoffed.  “To be honest, I don’t care that Daisy didn’t make it.  I wouldn’t have liked her, anyway.”

            “Okay.  And what makes you say that?”

            “She thinks she’s so fabulous just because she’s good at sports.  She sure doesn’t behave like a princess—especially with the way she dresses sometimes.”

            “Marth, that’s enough!” Lucina had broken in.  “Apologize to him, and go think about what you just said.”

            “Fine, Lucy.  Sorry, L.”  But like most of them, the words were spoken sarcastically.

            Afterwards, Luigi had used his tickets for Endless Smash and Cruel Smash.  Marth’s biting jeers had receded into a deep, dark corner of his mind.

            Following this, Luigi had taken another shower and changed into his normal green getup.

            Now, he was in his room, a notepad and pen on his lap.  He flipped the pad open, clicked on the pen, and started to write.

            It was a new list.

            **DARK PIT.**

            _I can’t help but feel sorry for you, L_ , he’d jeeringly written to him minutes away from their battle.  Yes, he was cheering him up with trips to Chuck E. Cheese’s, but Pittoo had misbehaved that morning.  Misbehaving angels needed to be punished.

            **MEWTWO**

            Luigi, a sulk?  Who did the psychic think he was talking to?  Yeah, he’d been a little snotty during Melee, but he was tolerable.  But he was supposed to have mellowed in this tournament.  Looks were deceiving, indeed.

            **MARTH**

            Another arrogant snotnose.  An understanding was supposed to have existed between the plumber and the Prince of Altea, deeply rooted in the Melee days, when Luigi had told him about his adventure in the haunted mansion to save Mario.  Marth had been moved by the tale, fighting at his side ever since.  Close to fifteen years, and now this.  Luigi was more stung and betrayed than anything.

            **KYLE**

            The Chrom look-alike.  Besides causing Lucina distress, he had a well-recognized profile on Miiverse.  Luigi had decided to follow him to dig up some dirt.  And he hit the jackpot.  Kyle posted some snide comments about the real McCoy, saying that he should be thankful the Master Hand at least allowed him as a Final Smash.  He also aimed a few barbs at Lucina for being a “daddy’s girl”, among other things.  And last but not least, he’d trolled the Mario Bros. over spending more time with talking fungi than plumbing!  He hadn’t said anything about Peach or Daisy—at least, not yet.

            Luigi sat at his computer and logged onto Miiverse.  He felt a little chafed over Evan keeping something from him, as his behavior that afternoon implied.  But it was probably for the best.  He’d let it slide this one time.  But eventually, they were going to sit down and have a nice chat about it.

            That, however, was too far in the future to think about.

            The door open, and Evan entered, bearing victuals aplenty.  “L, don’t get started without me!” he cried.

            “Or me!” added Mandy, following close behind.

            “Hey, guys,” said Luigi.

            “I’ve got the raddest news ever!” announced Mandy.  “I’m officially a Smasher!  MH approved my application, and I start tomorrow morning!”

            “Even after…” started Luigi.

            “Yes.  Even after that,” said Mandy.  “He’s a forgiving soul, so I’m not surprised.”

            “He also sounds genuinely sorry for making you upset,” Evan joined in.

            “I know,” smiled Luigi.  “I’ll just leave him in a sweat for a while.”

            Mandy helped Evan get the food situated before they joined Luigi at the computer.

            “Okeydokey,” said the man in green.  “Time for a scavenger hunt.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            “Sir, you’ve got a special order!” Kyle sang out as he presented a white paper bag to Master Hand.

            Master smelled the air.  “Could that be…?”

            “Yep.  It’s your favorite sandwich,” beamed Kyle.  “There’s a note taped to the front of this bag.”

            Master found the note, peeled it off, and began to read.

            “ _Sorry I ate your lunch earlier.  I have to hand it to your dad—he makes a mean sandwich! –L._ ”

            “Luigi, Luigi, Luigi,” murmured Master as he prepared to dig in.  “What can we do without you?”


	11. Minna, Miteite Kure!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title translates to "Everyone, please watch me!"  
> Trigger warnings: Depictions of harassing, hurtful posts and an extremely graphic fight scene at the end.

            Snarky, sardonic posts.  Miiverse was filled with them.  There was a pro-Daisy camp, as Luigi had assured her, but the viciousness of the anti-Daisy camp blindsided him.  They even used her planned taunt, “Hi, I’m Daisy!” against her!  Their posts pelted Miiverse with reasons why Daisy shouldn’t make the cut, all of them ridiculous.

            “What else does she do besides play sports?”

            “Has she ever been in a real adventure of her own?”

            “How did she and Luigi get together in the first place?”

            “In Super Mario Land, Mario was the one who rescued her from Tatanga.  So why is she making eyes at his cowardly excuse of a brother?”

            “Daisy sucks!”

            “Rosalina is the better princess.  At least she has a galaxy!”

            “So, Daisy didn’t get her way.  That’s the way life goes, kid!”

            “Hey, Daisy!  Do the world a favor and take your whining somewhere else!  You were a waste of a Ballot slot!”

            “Ha-ha-ha.  Looks like Daisy didn’t get the golden ticket after all.  Serves her right.”

            “Thirsty?  Then drink a nice, refreshing cup of Daisy’s tears!”

            “[ _bleep_ ] Daisy, and [ _bleep_ ] her boyfriend.  What business do they have in Smash?”

            “Boo-hoo-hoo, Master Hand gave Daisy a Thumbs-Down, how [ _bleep_ ]-ing tragic.  Not!  Go back to playing sports, you priss-faced [ _bleep_ ].”

            “Don’t quote me on this, but if Daisy was in Smash, then she would be rated E—for everyone.”

            “Daisy, there is no place for you in this great tournament.  Deal with it.”

            “She needs to be *CENSORED*.”

            “Luigi is so full of it.  He needs to go back to the sewers where he belongs!”

            “Yo, Luigi!  Why don’t you stop making eyes at Princesses and go back to cleaning [ _bleep_ ] toilets?  Is that too much to ask?”

            “Luigi and Daisy, the love story of the century.  Fate continually keeps them apart.  Well, Romeo and Juliet knew how to solve that problem, didn’t they?  Perhaps these two lovebirds should follow their example.”

            “Daisy, honey, let’s face it.  Nintendo doesn’t like you, or at least they don’t think you’re fighting material.  Guess there’s one thing left to do.  We both know what it is…”

            “Luigi, buddy, stop wasting Master Hand’s time.  Get the [ _bleep_ ] out of Smash, go eat some ravioli and get *CENSORED*.”

            These were just the milder anti-Daisy posts.  They just kept getting lower and lower.  By the time it was over, the three scavenger hunters were completely desensitized to the sadistic cruelty of their fellow man.

            Mandy bowed her head, crossed herself and prayed: “Heavenly Father, please forgive these people as I forgive them myself.”

            “Amen,” chorused her male companions.

            There was a knock on the door.

            “Yes?” asked Luigi.

            “It’s Roy!”

            Luigi sighed.  “Come in.”

            The redheaded swordsman entered, the Sword of Seals at his side.  His head was bowed in shame.  “Luigi, I—I’m so sorry,” he began.  “I must apologize for Marth’s behavior earlier today.  I don’t know if he was salty over losing, or stressed out over political affairs in his homeland.  But he had no right to say those things to you.  I thought you two were friends.”

            “So did I,” said Luigi.  “This isn’t the first time, though.”

            Roy nodded.  He knew about the Monado Boy, Shulk, being a wolf dressed in sheep’s clothing, building up Luigi’s trust in him before hurling it in his face.  He also knew what had eventually happened to the Homs as a result, something that even his Vision abilities couldn’t evade.

            “Marth is no Shulk,” Roy assured him.  “His respect for you was genuine.”

            “I know.  He’s not a faker,” nodded Luigi.  “He’s just being a snob.  That’s what I’ve always disliked about him.”

            “He’s normally not like that, believe me,” said Roy.

            “Did you and Lucy talk some sense into him,” asked Luigi.

            “Essentially, it all boils down to him being of royal blood, and you being a—a…”

            “A peasant,” finished Luigi.

            “Yes,” whispered Roy.  “I just want you to know that Lucy and I do not condone his behavior, and he and I are no longer together.  A line was crossed, and he knew it.  So, I broke up with him.”

            “Have you told Master Hand?” asked Mandy.

            “Don’t worry, I already did that,” Luigi broke in.  “I stopped by his office before heading to Multi-Man Smash.”

            “Will you be all right?” asked Evan.

            Roy grinned.  “Sure.  There are other fish in the sea.”

            “One last question, Roy,” said Luigi.  “Has he entertained the idea of apologizing to me?”

            “I’m afraid not,” said Roy.  “Maybe he’ll come around.  Maybe not.  Well, I’d better get going.  Take care of yourself, L.”

            “You, too, Roy,” said Luigi.

            The swordsman took his leave.

            “Well, that was eventful,” said Mandy.  “I probably won’t get a wink of sleep tonight.”

            “Me, neither,” said Luigi.

            Evan ran his hand through his hair.  His palms felt clammy, and his heart raced.  He knew that this had been going on well before the Ballot closed.  But he just couldn’t bring himself to tell Luigi.  The guy was trying to move on from the hatred and mocking he’d been subjected to, trying not to hold anymore grudges.  Evan was just waiting for the right time to break the news.  But then again, nobody could cheat destiny.

            Suddenly, a choked sob shook Evan.  His head fell forward into his hands.

            Luigi whirled.  “Evan?  What’s wrong?”

            “Forgive me,” hiccupped Evan.  “It’s all my fault.”

            “None of this is your fault,” Mandy comforted.

            “No, you don’t understand,” sniffled Evan.  “I was aware of all of this.  It started while people were still casting their votes.  And I should’ve told you, but I didn’t—I thought the hate would pass—and you were going through enough already, and—it’s all my fault!”  He began sobbing deeply.

            “I could’ve done something about this, told Master Hand, but I wanted to give them all the benefit of the doubt!  I’m such an idiot!”

            He’d seen Luigi scribbling on a piece of paper and knew what it was.  A list of the condemned.  If he didn’t broach the subject with Luigi soon, then his name would wind up on it.  This man was someone he’d never hurt—yet for months, he’d kept this from him.  He prayed that Luigi would understand.

            His sobbing dwindled as Luigi hugged him.  “Just let it go,” he whispered.  “Everything’s going to be all right.”

            Mandy also hugged her fiancé from behind.  “I’m glad you told us, Evan,” she said.  “It takes guts to admit the truth.”

            “Please…” started Evan, but Luigi shushed him.

            “I had a hunch, too, Evan.  We all did.  Yet none of us could’ve guessed how extreme it was.  You think I’m going to freak out on you over this?  Is that what this is about?”

            “Yes,” whispered Evan.

            “Well, you can sleep soundly tonight, my friend,” Luigi said warmly.  “You owned up to your mistake, and you’re continuing to support me.  That’s all that matters.”

            Evan grinned, his tears gone.  “Now that’s what I want to hear!”

            Mandy huffed and turned off the computer.  “Let’s go outside, boys,” she said.  “I’m sick of this thing.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Marth, dressed in white, struck a pose.  “How do I look?” he asked.

            “You look great,” said Reflet.  “May I inquire as to the occasion?”

            “It’s Royals Night at Hot Topic,” explained Marth.  “I’ll get to test my skills against other swordfighters, eat some great food and be entertained by the hottest bands.  Robin’s going to be my date.”

            “What happened to Roy?” asked Reflet.

            Marth rolled his eyes.  “He’s just a great, big jerk.  He dumped me.”

            “Oh.  Who’s the other party?”

            “No.  It was nothing like that,” sighed Marth.  “We just—had a fight.”

            “Sounds like a serious one,” mused Reflet.

            “Sorry you can’t come with us,” said Marth.

            “I know.  Maybe next time.  And who knows?  With time, Roy will forgive you.”

            Marth laughed sharply.  “You should’ve seen him.  Having conniptions over a— _peasant_!”

            Reflet’s eyes widened.  “Wait a minute.  Lucina told me that you—had words—with Luigi.  Is that true?”

            “I was just being honest with him,” shrugged Marth.

            “You weren’t being too nice about it,” chided Reflet.

            “Sometimes, you can’t be nice about some things,” counseled Marth.  “The truth hurts, and I stand by what I told him.  Princess Daisy will not fit in here, and that’s that.”

            “Whatever,” grumbled the tactician.  “Don’t come whining to me if something happens to you.”

            “I should be so lucky,” smirked Marth.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            The Training Room was quiet tonight.  Master and Crazy would’ve been relieved if they didn’t know the reason why.  The rage between two Smashers and one Smasher-to-be was so great that the room could not contain it.  It was outside, under the stars, where they could let everything go.

            Out of earshot from the sleeping Smashers while still within walking distance from the place, the two Smashers set to work getting Mandy conditioned for the vigorous tournament.  She was well-versed in Muay Thai and Tiger Claw as well as kickboxing.  With the perfect combination of the three, she’d make a wonderful first impression on the veteran Smashers.

            As Mandy’s tunes blasted on her iPhone, the young woman threw herself into her training.  First, she sparred with Evan, one-on-one.  His MMA prowess gave him equal footing with her.  The feeling of their bodies in such physical contact with one another just couldn’t be put into words.  She was so strong and limber, her punches and kicks strong enough to send anyone flying back to the N64 days if she wanted to.  But she held back because this was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with—that is, until he asked her not to.  On the moonlit yard, they gave it their all, shouting fiercely, unleashing torrents of aggression stemming from their scavenger hunt earlier.

            For the first half of the night, Evan was content to savor the lady he had engaged in a no-holds-barred Smash battle.  Her lovely face was flushed, eyes bright and hard, lips pressed together as she breathed through her nose.  Sweat trailed thinly striped paths down her back and torso; it snaked between her breasts as they bounced happily beneath her drenched sports bra.  Belly muscles stretched, flexed and then relaxed, little droplets writhing and leaping off the skin as she pushed herself harder and harder against his onslaught.  They went in close, and she was deliciously pressed against him, her chest heaving against his chest, her muscles standing out against his muscles, their shared adrenaline pulsing as each kept a steady, locked gaze on their opponent.  He’d toss in a few encouraging words ripe with innuendo, and she’d catch their meaning and glare playfully at him.  They were training together, fighting together and releasing together.  And soon, they’d take on the world together as Mr. and Mrs. Evan Vidad.

            Their sparring would’ve culminated in something hotter if they hadn’t remembered that they had company.  Luigi sat cross-legged on the grass, watching them, patiently waiting his turn, reflecting on what had happened to him today.  He closed his eyes and shut out his surroundings to get in touch with his inner being, to flush the day’s events from his mind.  His hands rested on his lap as he felt his breathing slow to the pace Wii Fit Trainer had recommended.  Smoothly, he began to run through three favorite breathing exercises she taught him.  He followed Meta Knight’s advice, asking himself what he really wanted, what he was really shooting for here.  So many answers to that question, yet he had to pick the very best one.  His mind sorted, filtered through those answers as he employed a fourth breathing exercise, and then a fifth, and a sixth.  The energetic sounds coming from his two friends were starting to distract him.  So, he put it aside for now and focused on staying collected.

            Finally, Luigi let his surroundings slowly fade back in.  He opened his eyes.  Evan and Mandy were just finishing their sparring.  The man in green couldn’t wait to see what she could do!

            “Mandy, I think you’ll do just fine,” panted Evan as they shook hands.

            “Thanks,” said Mandy.

            “Okay, L.  I need a break,” said Evan.  “Let’s see how well you do against her.”

            Luigi hopped to his feet.  “Gladly,” he smiled.

            “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Evan called after him as he went to join Mandy.

            Mandy and Luigi sized each other up.  The girl was still breathing heavily, but she had enough energy to take on a fresh opponent.  Evan told her all she needed to know about this one.  He was pretty fast and strong, but a little awkward.  A high jumper, a master at combos and floaty.  Lacking in traction, initially an inferior clone but now a unique, capable and zany fighter.  She looked deep into his eyes and saw things, and she nodded slightly in understanding.  What he saw on Miiverse really stung him.

            As for Luigi, what he’d watched between Evan and Mandy had told him enough about who he was up against.  Agile, athletic, eager but still a little rough around the edges.  A young tree, still a few stages away from full development.  He smiled at her as he calmly rolled up his sleeves.  She drew a long breath and put up her dukes, with him following suit shortly thereafter.

            Evan made himself comfortable in a deck chair, hands clasped behind his head, watching vigilantly.  After all, he had to make sure how others handled his girl.  But she seemed to be doing fine, holding her own quite nicely against the man in green.  He noted the initial confusion over his wacky moves.  She didn’t have the benefit of seeing him in action beforehand.  But after engaging him for a few minutes, she quickly figured out which moves to bait and punish, and that he performed well in the air.  She grounded him with flurries of strikes.  She parried, blocked and countered.  She clinched and kneed.  Her body was so slippery that she was impossible to grab.  Occasionally, the rhythm of her breathing shifted, so as to not reach breathlessness too early.

            Unfortunately, Luigi’s strength put Mandy at a slight disadvantage.  He trapped her in his Cyclone attack and blindsided her with his spearhand numerous times.  She took hits from his headbutt, breakdance kick, overhand swipe and low heel kick.  Her speed was no match for a Green Missile.  Yet she wasn’t down for long.  She jumped up and went back on the offensive with more intricate attacks and combinations of her fighting styles.

            They paused, Mandy shaking her hair out of her face and swooping it into a ponytail.  With a loud cry, she engaged him once more.

            The night wore on.  By now, Evan was manipulating himself as he contemplated Mandy’s contoured body glittering in the moonlight, dressed in that black sports bra and black capris.  Her skin stood out against the green and blue on her opponent.  Evan noticed that her abdomen was jumping and dancing as she breathed from deep in her tummy, rather than from her chest.  The small, twin mounds of hers danced with her increasingly complex movements, and as the battle heated up, she seemed to light up the night with her energy.  She was going to do well in Smash.  Quite well.

            By sheer effort, Evan managed to get his hands away from himself as he watched the bout wind down.  Sweat dripped off both of them and mingled with each exchange of attacks.  Eventually, Luigi, too, burned himself out.  They headed over to join Evan, Mandy sitting on his lap as they kissed and cuddled.

            “You’re amazing,” Luigi said to her.

            “You, too,” smiled Mandy.

            Ten minutes later, they were ready for more.  A free-for-all.

            “I’ll probably take you both,” Mandy warned the two men.

            “Depends,” said Evan.  Mandy almost swooned at the sight of his six-pack abs.

            “L, you might want to be careful, because this is about to get _really_ physical,” said Mandy, her voice intense.

            “I can handle it,” crowed Luigi.

            The green-clad one and the two shirtless ones turned up the heat and brawled away the rest of the night.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Master Hand and Crazy Hand got up and stretched, deciding to let Master Core sleep for a few more minutes.  Despite the doubts still circulating in their minds, that was the best sleep they’d had in ages.  Maybe it was a good thing that those three decided to take things outside.

            So, where were they now?

            Master Hand floated to the window, watching the sky light up.  He squinted.  Three figures danced and shuffled about in the yard, two men and one woman.  At first, the dawn’s glare made it hard to identify them—they were just silhouettes.  Upon closer inspection, he recognized the trio as Luigi, Evan and Mandy.  And it looked like they were trying to put the other through a wall.

            Were they really up all night?

            After putting on a jacket, Master Hand teleported outside.  Now, he could hear the sounds which would’ve kept everyone awake last night.  Hardcore hits pumping from an iPhone.  Heavy breaths, aggressive shouts and grunts.  All three parties were bathed in sweat; Luigi’s clothes were nearly soaked through.  They continued to attack, feint, retreat and combo, their faces set.  Master allowed himself to observe for a bit before finally getting their attention.

            “Top of the morning to the three of you,” he said.

            Immediately, the trio stopped what they were doing, turned and smiled at him.  “Morning, Master Hand,” they greeted in unison.

            “I take it your evening went well,” said Master.

            “That it did,” said Evan, gazing flirtily at Mandy.

            “We figured that we’d break her in before her first real match,” explained Luigi.  “She looks pretty ready to me.”

            “And to me,” added Evan.

            “That’s very nice of you,” said Master Hand.  “How about we head inside, wash up and get some rest before breakfast?”

            “Sure,” replied Mandy.  “Good fight, guys.”

            “Ditto,” smiled Evan.

            Arm-in-arm, the three went to attend to Master’s wishes.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Luigi emerged from his shower wearing a lime-colored shirt with dark blue overalls and a dark-blue cap.  Outside his room, he paused.  A bouquet of daisies lay by the door, along with a note.  He picked it up and read it.

            “ _Sorry about what I said yesterday. –Marth_ ”

            He bit his lip as he picked up the bouquet.  “If he’s so sorry, then why doesn’t he say it to my face?” he wondered.  “He wouldn’t have dreamed of doing this in Melee.  So what is his problem with me now?”

            Luigi placed the daisies in a vase, feeling his heart rate kick back up, although he was fighting to keep calm.  He and Marth were going to settle this after breakfast.  He’d see how sorry the Hero-King was then.

            Kicking off his shoes, Luigi flopped onto the bed and closed his eyes, praying for a little nap before the breakfast call.

            He wasn’t disappointed.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            “Seriously, Marth is usually a little arrogant, but this was a whole new level,” Lucina was saying.  “I mean, he was really cutting Luigi down.  He said that Daisy doesn’t carry herself as a princess because of how she dresses sometimes.  Can’t you believe that?”

            Peach was appalled.  “I dress like that too when I play sports,” she gasped.  “How come he has a problem with Daisy and not with me?”

            “And you know what’s really troubling?” Lucina went on.  “Marth really respected him during Melee and Brawl.  He commended him for facing his fears on behalf of someone he loves.”

            “Unless he was just leading him on,” postulated Mario.

            Peach shook her head.  “Marth is not like Shulk.  He’s a noble, honorable man.  A ruler would never dream of doing that to anybody.”

            “Maybe he was just having a bad day,” shrugged Rosalina.  “Not that I’m making an excuse, but…”

            “Hi.  Is everything all right here?” asked Kyle, approaching their table.

            “Yes, everything’s fine,” Lucina stated tersely.  “We were just having a _private_ conversation.”

            “Okay, well, let me know if you need anything,” smiled Kyle before wandering to another table.

            “That guy really ticks me off,” growled Lucina.  “Do you know that he makes eyes at me sometimes?  It’s like he’s mocking both me and my father!”

            Peach put a hand on her shoulder.  “Just ignore him,” she advised.

            “Here he comes,” warned Mario, and everyone dropped the subject.

            Luigi was all smiles as he sat next to Mario and Peach.  “How’s it going?” he asked.

            “Quite well,” said Mario.  “And you?”

            “I feel somewhat better,” replied Luigi.

            “Have you decided what you’re going to do about them?” ventured Peach.

            Luigi took a mouthful of food.  “They deserve to be in suspense for a bit,” he told her.

            Lucina picked at what remained on her plate.  “Hi, L,” she said.

            “Hey, Lucy, how are you?” asked Luigi.

            “I—I don’t know,” whispered Lucina.  “I just feel so guilty about what happened yesterday.  I’m not talking about your fight with those three.  It’s about…”

            “I know,” nodded Luigi.  “I know.”

            “I’m sorry, Luigi,” said Lucina.  “You must think I condone his behavior because he’s my ancestor.  But I don’t.  And unless he apologizes to you, I’m never talking to him again.”

            “He sent me daisies and a note,” said Luigi, “but I don’t think that’s good enough.  Maybe he’ll never apologize.”

            “Maybe,” sighed Lucina.  “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

            “Me, neither,” said Luigi.

            As they continued to eat and chatter, Lucario passed them by on his way for seconds.  He’d obtained a clear reading of Marth’s Aura, and he wasn’t enamored of it.  In his hand, he held a message scribbled on a napkin, and he presently dropped it onto Luigi’s lap.  In block letters were the words: **DON’T TRUST HIM.**

He knew exactly who Lucario was talking about.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            CLANG!  Falchion and the Master Sword clashed in the morning light as Marth and Link got a little sparring in.  The bluenette was throwing himself into it, trying to get his mind off of his breakup with Roy.  That redhead had overreacted, and besides, he was telling the truth.  Wasn’t honesty a core foundation of a relationship?

            When it came to Luigi, the answer was apparently “no”.

            With a swish, Marth disarmed Link, forcing him to yield.

            “That was something else,” commented Link as he retrieved his Master Sword.

            “Yeah,” grunted Marth as he shoved a few blue bangs from his forehead.

            “You seem distracted,” said Link.  “Is something wrong?”

            “Roy and I broke up,” explained Marth.  “Over a common plumber!”

            “Marth, you should know better than to bad-mouth Mario!” scolded Link.  Then, he blinked.  “Hold on.  You said something about Luigi, didn’t you?”

            “I just told him to stop moping over Daisy,” defended Marth.

            “Those brothers may be plumbers, but they’re also heroes,” said Link.  “You’d better go apologize to them, and fast.  Maybe Roy will forgive you.”

            “Already taken care of,” smiled Marth.  “I sent Luigi some flowers.”

            “Apologizing in person would be better,” Link said softly.  “And furthermore, what kind of flowers?”

            “Daisies.”

            Link shrugged.  “Whenever Zel and I have a fight, I always take her out to someplace nice.  Works every time.”

            “Fine.  I’ll treat the Mario Bros and Roy to lunch,” said Marth.

            “Actually, that won’t be necessary,” said a voice.

            The swordsmen turned.

            Luigi stood behind them, innocence radiating from him.  Marth swallowed hard; he caught something in the plumber’s eyes which disquieted him.

            “Hi, Marth,” said Luigi.

            “Hi, Luigi.  Look, about yesterday…”

            “I know.  I saw the daisies you sent me.  They’re very beautiful.”  Luigi began to approach Marth, his face soft.  “I’m sorry to hear about you and Roy.  If you want, I can go talk to him.  Dr. Mario is very good at couples’ therapy.”

            “That’s fine, L.  I’ll make my own way,” Marth assured him.  After all, it was the plumber’s fault that Roy wanted nothing more to do with him.  He’d manipulated everyone here into believing he was the victim, and anyone disagreeing with him over the slightest matter or saying something he didn’t like was automatically the bad guy.  Saying that out loud, however, was asking for a death wish.

            Now, Marth and Luigi were a few millimeters apart.  The latter kept his face kind, but he could feel heat rising to his cheeks as he looked Marth straight in the eye.  His stance caused the prince’s brain to send out some distress signals, and to reassure himself, he placed one hand on Falchion’s hilt.  Luigi noticed, but he didn’t even bat an eye.

            “Marth,” he said quietly.  “I would like to have a word with you.  At Arena Ferox.”

            “Now?” asked Marth.

            “Now,” replied Luigi.

            Marth turned to the Hero of Time.  “Link, if you’ll excuse us,” he said.

            Link nodded.  “Remember what I told you,” he said sternly.  “See you when you get back.”

            Before the two left, Luigi leaned in Link’s ear and whispered, “He’s not coming back.”

            And then he and Marth were gone.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            A familiar flush of pride arose in Marth as he stood in Arena Ferox, surrounded by a cheering crowd.  He wore his usual royal garments, his cape blowing dramatically in the wind.  Impulsively, he unsheathed Falchion and struck a dramatic pose.  “Minna, miteite kure!” he proclaimed.

            Everyone cheered louder.

            “Are you quite done?”

            Marth spun and faced Luigi.  The kindness in his face was gone, replaced by stone-faced anger.  He was struggling to look as neutral as possible and failing grandly.

            “So, what are we here to talk about?” Marth asked casually.

            “We’re not going to say anything, actually,” Luigi said, his voice getting tight.  “We’re going to let Falchion and my fists do the talking.”

            “Well!  It would be rude not to accept your challenge,” Marth said smugly, “but be warned.  Falchion will have you inside of two minutes.”

            “We’ll have to see about that, won’t we?” asked Luigi.  “First things first, is there anything you’d like to say for yourself?”

            “About what?”

            “You know what I’m talking about.  The nasty attitude you put on yesterday,” snapped Luigi, fire and energy rushing into his bloodstream.

            “I thought I took care of that matter,” sniffed Marth.  “Do you not appreciate my gesture?”

            “Daisies and a note.  Oh, yes—that’s a very nice way of showing remorse,” huffed Luigi.  “Look around—you have fans that adore you.  You want to show remorse?  Then show it in front of them.”

            “While I did not intend to hurt your feelings, I do not retract my words,” Marth said firmly.

            “Is that so?  By the time I’ve finished with you, you will,” promised Luigi.

            Marth made an intimidating flourish with Falchion.  “Attack me, plumber,” he challenged.  “Attack me with everything you have.”

            And that was exactly what Luigi did.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Marth was an amazing swordsman.  Falchion had led him to many victories against opposing rulers.  Since 2001, his Dancing Blade had captured the hearts and minds of Super Smash Bros fans.  His Shield Breaker made almost all defensive options useless.  His Counter aroused jealously among his fellow Smashers.  And his Critical Hit plunged dread into the hearts of even the bulkiest heavyweight.

            That being said, the Prince of Altea wasn’t sweating a fight with Luigi.  He was ready for all of his attacks with well-timed Counters.  Falchion glinted menacingly as it unleashed a succession of painful attacks on the opponent, followed by the Dancing Blade.  Hardly thirty seconds in, Marth already had the upper hand.  Emotion was on his side as well.  His foe was in such a funk that he abandoned all strategy and just rushed at him, loaded for bear, and Marth brought a whole new meaning to the word “punish”.  Falchion, nice and polished and sharp, did a fine job of protecting its wielder from angry, gloved fists.  Unfortunately, he just didn’t know when to quit.  Cut and slashed all over, but he still got up and lunged at him.  Ah, well.  At least Marth would get to have his fun with him before fighting his scheduled matches.

            The Hero King held his ground for about an hour, and by that time, he was panting for breath.  Not a bruise or a scratch was on him, yet the same could not be said for his foolish opponent.  Satisfied that he was proving his point, Marth flamboyantly posed some more for the audience.

            Then, Marth turned back to his opponent and asked for a respite.

            “Ten minutes,” said Luigi.

            Marth nodded.  “No more and no less.”

            They retreated to separate ends of the arena, where servants had some snacks, drinks and first aid handy for them.  Marth gobbled down a few morsels and then posed for selfies with his fans.  Luigi sat on his knees, eyes closed, wrangling his emotions and stuffing them into a deep, dark corner of his mind, chewing thoughtfully on the provided snacks.  In between snacking, he concentrated his breathing in the center of his belly until he could feel his navel gently moving in and out.  With each inhale, his fury dulled, and he started to analyze his situation.  With each exhale, he felt every fiber of his being relax.  Slow breaths, welcoming focus.  Ten minutes of Heaven.  Energy, power and comfort beamed down on him from the Star Spirits high above.

            Ten minutes were over.  Marth finished posing for selfies and returned to the center of Arena Ferox.  He saw his opponent open his eyes, rise to his feet and step toward him.  Something about him seemed—different.  But he’d worry about it later.

            Marth readied Falchion, prepared to counter a punch or a kick.  Instead, he got something different, a barrage of fireballs!  His Counter didn’t work on energy-based projectiles!  Blindsided by this sudden attack, he was wide-open, and Luigi took advantage, slamming a powerful punch into his jaw.

            This round was going to be very different.

            Now that his anger was nicely locked away, Luigi showed greater finesse and caution.  He was calmer and more coordinated.  As he started scoring hits of his own, he began to notice certain things about his opponent that he’d overlooked the first time around.  That he’d often go for the Shield Breaker or Dancing Blade to finish a combo.  That his over-inflated ego could be a handy tool against him.  That maybe holding Falchion wouldn’t be so easy if his arms sustained some injury.

            Rapidly, the man in green ran through the inventory of his best and strongest attacks before unloading them with outstanding precision on the Hero King.  Twice, he jabbed his hand into Marth’s side, hearing something crack.  He aimed sound kicks at the arms and wrists and disoriented him with a series of blows to the ears.  Now, the sword slashes became haphazard, allowing Luigi to grab and mercilessly pummel Marth before doing his signature butt-stomp and following up with a furious combo.  More savage _cracks_ rang out, and Marth yelled in pain.  His foe passively broke his nose with his forward smash, dropped to the ground to do a down smash and then further damaged his good-looking face with some short-hop karate chops.  Finally, he kicked downwards in a corkscrew motion, hitting home on the top of Marth’s head.  He slammed onto the floor.  Blood gushed from his smashed nose and between his lips.  Falchion seemed heavier.  But he wouldn’t give up.  As Luigi attempted a Super Jump Punch, he summoned his power and heavily Countered it.

            For the next half-hour or so, there was a rally going.  Favor teeter-tottered from one man to the other.  Though Marth was now mottled with large bruises, he continued to skillfully handle Falchion.  The blade spun and twirled, now becoming flecked with scarlet, seeking out key areas on Marth’s adversary.  He was obviously struggling against pain and blood loss, but his blows were still heavy.  One side of his jaw was decimated, some ribs were cracked, and the tibia on one arm was traumatized.  Blood still spouted from his nose, and an ugly-colored ring surrounded both eyes.  He could sense that the audience was no longer cheering for him.  Shoving that thought aside, he engaged his opponent with greater passion than before.

            While expertly baiting Marth to use less reliable moves, Luigi continued to add onto the damage with fireballs.  He captured Marth with three consecutive Cyclone attacks.  He locked onto him with overhead downward punches which chained into themselves and ended the combo with a mighty roundhouse kick.  He reared back and slammed headbutts into him.  He grabbed him, swung him around and sent him flying all over the arena.  And he continued to chain off down-throw combos, retreating to safety whenever Marth managed to escape.

            Marth managed to fend Luigi off with a Dolphin Slash and a few strategic smash attacks.  Just as he thought he was in the clear, though, BLAM!  He could feel his gut, intestines and all sorts of other organs compact into each other as a misfired Green Missile slammed into him.  The ribs on one side broke, as well, poking and prodding at the compacted organs.  He hit the floor hard, barely able to breathe, and that was when Luigi pounced on him.  His elbow jammed into Marth’s right arm, shattering his ulna and radius, and the left arm followed shortly thereafter.  Marth howled in agony now, praying for Naga to save him.  His prayer was unanswered.

            Vulnerable, Marth could only watch as Luigi applied a few more elbow strikes to his chest and torso, endeavoring to shut out the hollow sounds of breaking bones.  Then, he popped all ten of his fingers out of place before pounding some more at his face.  Marth flopped like a fish and spit up blood, but Luigi kept going.  He put a small plume of flame in his blue hair, and Marth couldn’t stop the green fire from burning his hair to a crisp, leaving second and third degree burns on his scalp.  Then, Luigi viciously twisted Marth’s wrists until they snapped and fired a spearhand at his kneecaps, breaking them.  Finally, he launched his hand into Marth’s injured chest and again straight into his throat.

            The prince wheezed, vocal chords paralyzed.  Luigi paused to observe his masterpiece.  This was almost how his ex-friend, Ike Greil, the Radiant Hero, looked before he met his fate.  He, too, tried to apologize and extend an olive branch, but it was too little, too late.  Marth’s offense was just as capital, tossing his loyalty in the trash for the sake of keeping up appearances.  The difference was that Marth did it under his own free will, whereas Ike submitted to the will of his peers.

            Luigi stood over the Hero King, looking coldly into his eyes, smirking when he saw the fear in them.  He knew why he was here, and that there was no way out.  Before he could dream up some lame excuse, Luigi speared his hand into Marth’s throat twice more, making a prolific amount of blood spurt from the neck and mouth.  The bluenette’s eyes began to glaze over and dim.

            “So,” Luigi whispered in the dying man’s ear.  “What were you saying about Daisy not belonging in Smash?”

            Marth, of course, could say nothing due to his busted vocal chords.

            “You know, I could put up with your arrogance because I thought we understood each other.  After all, you held facing a major fear in high regard.  But you insulted a lovely lady, a lady who just so happens to be the ruler of Sarasaland.  And as you should know, there’s a certain way of punishing such an offense.”

            Luigi now held Falchion in his hand.  “How ironic, Marth?  The sword you’ve fought many battles with is about to punish you for your cruel words against my Princess.  I assure you, it’s going to be _very_ painful.”

            With that, Luigi plunged Falchion deep into Marth’s broken chest.  Flesh ripped, and blood puddled around the fallen noble.  The victor dragged the blade all the way down to Marth’s waist before discourteously yanking it out.  Things began to spill from the partially dissected body.  And for the grand finale, Luigi sliced the reddened sword through Marth’s neck, beheading him.

            The spectators cheered, free at last from their self-righteous, preening, snobby ruler.  Dropping Falchion and taking some calming breaths, Luigi turned to face the crowd, waving and comically posing.

            Once the euphoria died down, Luigi had a servant bring a golden platter.  On it, he placed Marth’s head, wrapped in a yellow cloth, covered the platter with a fancily embossed lid and requested it to be delivered to Princess Daisy of Sarasaland.  Once he cleaned Falchion, he had it sent to Daisy, as well.

            Luigi treated himself to an Altean bath and then dressed all in purple.  Returning to his room, he fetched his list and drew a thick, red line through Marth’s name.  Suddenly, he knelt, removed his cap, bowed his head and prayed.

            “Forgive me, Padre, for I will sin.”


	12. Interlude: Sugar and Spice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Strong smut; 16+

**_Daisy’s POV_ **

**The head of a handsome noble is in my lap.  His face is so beautiful, or it once was, before all of the bruises, fractures, dislocations and lacerations.  All of the blood has been washed away, and I can see the expression, forever frozen in terror and submission.**

**I run my fingers through the singed, blue hair, not repulsed by the scalp burns.  I think his face is now prettier than ever, because his serpent tongue has been silenced for good.**

**“So, my prince,” I coo.  “You think I can’t handle myself in Smash?  You think I don’t behave like a princess because I like to dress progressively?  Well, now you can see me with your own two eyes.  What do you think of me now?”**

**Marth does not answer.  Of course he can’t because he’s dead.  The rest of his body is God-knows-where.  I stroke the shattered cheeks with my thumbs and look deeply into the opaque eyes.  “You know something?  I wish you were alive, so you could say that garbage to my face.  You could’ve been more of a gentleman about it.  If you’d directed your opinions at me, rather than _him_ , I would’ve let you lived—at least, for a little while longer.  And maybe your death wouldn’t have been so—macabre, had I chosen to sentence you to death.  If I was in a good mood, I simply would’ve had you banished and ordered Altea to make a gesture of conciliation.  But I’ll have you know that I think foul scorn of anyone who tries to tarnish my good name—and the name of the man I love.”**

**Then, I press my lips to Marth’s cold lips; they burn like venom.  I plan to make this into a public display, as a warning to anyone who dares treat me or my man like trash.  The dungeon seems like a nice place for it.  It also makes a swell Halloween decoration, grislier than those “spooky scary skeletons” everybody’s gaga about.**

**I am a nice Princess, as sweet as can be.  I’m generous, benevolent, slow to hold grudges and quick to forgive.  But there lies a darker side within me, and only certain things set it off.  Like the cruelty against me on Miiverse.  I’ve memorized the names of those cyberbullies, whispered them at night before I go to bed.  And some of them I know, while others _he_ knows.  Well, as Marth found out the hard way, my man has his ways of taking care of them.  I have mine, too.  Push me hard enough and they can be just as extreme as his.**

**This not-so-pretty side of me, stashed in the recesses of my brain, is about to be released from its confines.  I’ve stripped off my dress, and now I’m angrily grinding myself against the battered head of the noble prince who verbally wounded me, fantasizing all possible ways he met his end at my plumber’s hand.  Yeah, this other me is a bit of a sadist.  I scream out all of my rage as I defile the head with my venomous flower juice, and once my monstrous temper dies down, I tenderly clean the head with my handkerchief.  Then, I summon my servants to prepare the head for public exhibition.**

**I’m wearing a different dress today.  Form-fitting, curve-outlining and midriff-bearing.  A protest, if you will, against Marth’s remarks.  My subjects don’t seem to care how I’m dressed; as long as I’m keeping them warm, fed, employed and protected against invaders, they love me no matter what.  And Peach and Rosalina ( _ugh_ ) wear short shorts and tight-fitting uniforms when going out for sports and kart racing, so what’s the big idea?**

**Another servant comes in, bearing a bouquet of roses and a brand-new tiara.  They’re from him; I just know it.  A smile banishes the storm on my visage as I sniff the flowers.  Attached to them is a little card.  He’s coming to visit me tonight.  That is good.**

**I spend the rest of the day discussing taxes, political alliances, the state of our existing allies, upcoming sporting events and other royal stuff.  As evening falls, I retreat to my private exercise studio and allow the rest of my stormy emotions to manifest until he arrives.**

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

**He is here with me now, and that’s all I need.  He is the ice and salve on my wounds, the water to my thirst, the day to my night.  I’ve sent my servants away, and it’s just us in my bedchamber, watching TV and eating pizza together.  We don’t talk about the posts or Marth; there’s no need to.  After the pizza comes vanilla ice-cream, seductively sliding spoonfuls of it into each other’s mouths.  I “accidentally” falter and plop some of the treat on his overalls and shirt; he takes them off.  A bit of ice-cream falls onto the skirt of my dress, and I waste no time getting rid of it.  Now, we’re eating dessert in our underwear, sometimes eating it off of each other.  The temperature is slowly rising between us.  I see the bulge in his briefs and feel the moist feeling in my panties.  Now, he’s telling me that his stomach is flopping all over the place and his head is spinning around.  That’s his heart doing that, for we asked for no anchovies in the pizza.  We lean in and kiss, ice-cream all but forgotten, the carton squishing between our bodies and spilling the yummy goodness on our bellies.  Now my mouth is on his tummy, cleaning up the frozen dessert, fast and urgent.  He is slower, tongue and lips working strategically, letting it melt so he can work his tongue all over my torso and against my belly button.  I feel him sliding off my underwear and peeling off my bra.  He wriggles out of his briefs.  We lock eyes, and he smiles at me, telling me everything’s going to be fine, just before he sets upon a more satisfying dessert—me.**

**I scream and scream and scream with need as he eats me out.  His ’stache causes me to twitch with ticklishness.  I try to cradle his head like I did Marth’s, but he grabs my hands and enfolds them in his as he licks my flower pot clean.  I’m shouting his name.  I’ve had enough of this teasing; this flower pot of mine wants a seed planted in it!  This only serves to make him tease me more, his tongue working a rhythm as it does sultry things to me.  And just at the vital moment, he withdraws, peering at me, slowly licking his lips.  I’m so anticipated that I start to dribble.**

**And then we become one, planting the seed.  Our shiny, slick bodies converge in a mass of muscle, spasming and writhing and thrusting.  His arms are around me, hands resting on the small of my back, my arms are around his neck, pulling him closer and closer.  He is so deep in me.  I shriek louder, talking all sorts of gibberish.  He’s breathing low and hard, moaning, whispering words to me, some of them sugary and some of them oh-so-naughty.  I feel him swell, stretch and harden.  The seed is nice and planted, all right.  My flower pot is quite versatile; it can handle such a special seed.  He starts to slow down, suckling in all the right places on my body.  He can make me last a long while.  I shout for him to keep going, to not stop, to love me, to fill me up.  Flower pots are made to hold and nurture seeds, not let them get away!  We continue to undulate together, racing close and pulling back and racing close again and again.**

**The seed is eventually fertilized with his thick, warm, wet love.  Gallons of messy love explode into me, filling me completely to the brim.  Then, my gushing love meets his, watering the seed, spilling all of the passion I feel for him.  He’s so sweet, he grips the headboard to keep from trapping me with his weight.  Our sticky, gooey, heated love mixes together and slathers us; it feels so good.  The leakage seems to go on forever.  I don’t want it to end.  Neither does he.**

**Slowly, it dwindles.  He’s still dripping as he starts off a new round of thrusting.  Exhilarated cries spew from my lips.  This is such a breather from the mockery we’re facing.**

**The last thing I know before fatigue sets in is that the taste of our shared love is sweet, tart—and a little spicy.**

**In the morning, a fresh twenty-four hours will commence.  And the time will come to let these rarely seen sides of me and my Luigi come out to play.**


	13. Kronos Unveiled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title based on the scene from "The Incredibles."

**Kronos Unveiled**

            Master Hand, Crazy Hand and Kyle stood outside the bathroom. Though the door was tightly closed, the sounds of barfing still got through. Kyle turned to look at the two Hands.

            “Did he always have such a tender stomach?” asked the Chrom look-alike.

            “You’ve no idea,” muttered Master.

            At last, the retching stopped. Master Core stumbled out of the bathroom, a little pale, but otherwise okay.

            “Dad! Are you alright?” asked Crazy.

            “I’m awesome,” replied MC. “Have you sent a clean-up crew down there yet?”

            “They’re taking care of it now,” Master assured him.

            “Thank God,” groaned MC. “I probably won’t be able to eat for a month.”

            How much time had passed since Reflet had burst into their office bearing the fateful news? Upon arrival at Arena Ferox, time had expanded like DK’s dong. Marth, or what was left of him, splayed on the floor in a pool of deep carmine. A smooth, round space where the head used to be. The body, split nearly cleanly from the chest down, all manner of body fluids, viscera, pieces of bone and chunks of organs vomiting from the gash. Grotesquely broken fingers, wrists, kneecaps and arms. Nasty bruises everywhere. MC had lasted long enough to secure the area, and then he’d bolted into the bathroom and spilled his guts. Needless to say, he was relieved upon hearing that a group of Miis had wiped Arena Ferox spotless from the incident.

            “Okay,” said MC once he’d fully gathered himself. “Let’s go talk to him.”

            They knew the first place to look. And of course, he was there, as discernable from the animated sounds inside the Training Room. The sound of a second voice told them that he was in familiar company.

            Master Hand immediately knocked on the door. “Room service!”

            The sparring ground to a stop, and the door opened.

            “Hey, Master Hand!” chirped Mario. “What’s up?”

            “We need to talk with your brother,” said MC. “Alone.”

            That was when Luigi appeared. “Yes?” he asked.

            The three bosses nearly started at the sight of him. Bruises and slashes covered him, crusted over with dried blood. He was clad in purple, resembling his foil, Waluigi. And those eyes of his told them everything.

            “It’s okay, L. We’re not here to accuse you of anything. We just need to speak with you,” Crazy said reassuringly.

            “Okay,” said Luigi.

            The four headed straightaway to Master’s office, where they sat in their usual spots.

            “L,” began Master. “What happened between you and Marth?”

            “I knew you were going to ask me that,” said Luigi. “Well, it’s about time you started paying attention. He said something very—discriminatory—about Daisy. That she didn’t deserve to be on the Smash Ballot. That he wouldn’t have liked her on the roster. That she doesn’t behave like a Princess because…”

            “…of the way she dresses sometimes,” finished Master. “I remember hearing about that. L, I’m terribly sorry.”

            “Bet you did nothing about it, though,” muttered Luigi.

            Master cleared his throat. “We lectured him and made him send both you and Daisy a gift.”

            “So, the daisies—your idea?”

            Master nodded.

            “What did he send Daisy?”

            “We don’t know,” said Crazy. “He was pretty resistant to the idea, anyway.”

            Luigi sighed. “Typical.”

            “Look, L,” said MC. “We know why you did it. You felt hurt and betrayed by Marth. But—you could’ve found another way to settle it.”

            “Yeah? Any bright ideas? I’d love to hear them,” said Luigi, a little sharply. “Are you not aware of the hate Daisy is facing on Miiverse? The mocking, insulting, harassing, explicit comments, the posts telling her to—to…”

            Master’s heart almost stopped. “ _What?!_ ”

            “So I guess you haven’t heard. Daisy—my Daisy—is being _cyberbullied_.”

            “Just now?” asked MC.

            “Starting when her name was first put up for consideration,” clarified Luigi. “Evan, Mandy and I dug up a lot of dirt on the matter. And perhaps you should catch up with your right-hand Mii, Kyle. I’m sure he’d _love_ to tell you about how much fun he and his friends are having on Miiverse.”

            “Wait. What does this have to do with Marth?” Crazy wanted to know.

            “He. Is. One. Of. Them,” Luigi managed to spit out.

            “Dear God,” gasped MC.

            “Yeah. There’s a lot of stuff on Miiverse that you don’t know about. Just thought I should bring that to your attention. A sort of reparation for what I’ve done.” He tossed his head defiantly. “So. What happens to me now?”

            “I—I—we’ll deal with that later, all right? Just, please, try to control your temper next time,” pleaded Master.

            “I’m sorry. That I can’t promise,” murmured Luigi. “Not anymore. Too much damage has been done. The bullies have turned their attention to _mia Princesa_. Now, it’s personal.”

            Master, Crazy and MC felt as if they swallowed a brick.

            “You know I’ll have to take action if this goes too far,” warned Master.

            Luigi’s face was like granite. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he said evenly.

            There was nothing else to say. Luigi stood, bade the three good day, and left without looking back.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

**Don’t try to fix me; I’m not broken.**

**\--Evanescence, “Hello”**

            The last time Evan was on pins and needles like this was when he saw Luigi in action for the first time. But now, it was Mandy on the battlefield, facing the mysterious Meta Knight and the mighty Galaxia. Luckily, Luigi was sitting next to him, a comforting hand on his forearm.

            “Don’t worry,” said the man in green. “Meta is a chivalrous one. He never fights unless honorably challenged, and he respects his opponents.”

            Evan was soon put at ease as the battle went underway. For her first Smash battle, Mandy was perfectly composed. Meta Knight certainly followed the principle of “ladies first”, allowing her to attempt the initial strike before counterattacking. For the first half of the bout, he tested her skills like never before. It was obvious that he respected her abilities, and that she respected his. Nonetheless, their clash of wills brought the match to a resounding climax which culminated in Meta Knight clinching a win by a narrow stock.

            “Do not let this discourage you, milady,” the masked knight said to Mandy as they shook hands. “You have shown admirable talent in this battle, and I’m confident that soon, you will achieve victory. However, you have much yet to learn.”

            Mandy nodded. “It was a pleasure doing battle with you,” she said. “No doubt our paths will cross again.”

            Once he received the victor’s spoils, Meta Knight joined Luigi and Evan.

            “Wow,” said Evan. “You sure know how to treat a lady.”

            “She is truly nobody to underestimate,” said Meta. “I feel sorry for those who make that mistake.”

            “Hey, Meta,” Luigi piped up. “I thought about what you said that day.”

            “And?” prompted Meta.

            “I guess I just want Daisy to be recognized,” said Luigi. “A little bit like me.”

            “Give it time,” advised Meta, “and she will.”

            “She—she’s facing plenty of hate on Miiverse,” Luigi said after a while.

            “How come?” Meta wanted to know.

            “People are just ignorant and vicious these days,” sighed Luigi, “and try as I might, I can’t do a thing about it.”

            “So. That’s why you and Marth…”

            “Yes,” said Luigi. “He spoke unkindly of her, and he had to pay the price.”

            “To tell the truth, I came across some words being said about Sword and Blade,” admitted Meta.

            “And how did you handle them?”

            “Nothing big,” shrugged Meta. “I just challenged them to a duel.”

            “If they’re man enough to show their faces,” Luigi stated, a bit dourly.

            “Listen closely, L. Your Princess’s honor has been attacked, and it’s your duty to defend it. But remember our little discussion on the Halberd. Keep a strong focus on what you want.”

            “Don’t worry,” Luigi assured him. “I will.”

            Meta nodded. “Come. I desire another duel against you.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

_Some time later_

            To Master’s immense relief, Luigi appeared to have calmed down following the incident with Marth. He’d paid another visit to Daisy, which also helped. Rumor had it that she planned to use Marth’s head as a centerpiece. As punishment for flying off the handle (again), Master had sentenced Luigi to two weeks without any custom equipment and was shocked when the green plumber accepted the penalty.

            Something was up.

            There were still the sleepless nights and a Sandbag-strewn Training Room in the mornings. Luigi continued to spar with Mandy and Evan under the stars. His opponents were in for a wild ride—especially Mewtwo, Dark Pit and Kyle. The restriction on custom equipment meant no more Smash Runs, but Luigi made up for that by participating in Endless Smash or Cruel Smash whenever he had the chance. During the latter, he’d shamelessly throw Mii after Mii off the stage, as that was the only way he could beat them. And if Sandbags or the future Mr. and Mrs. Vidad weren’t keeping him occupied during his restless moods, then Mario was more than happy to help. He seemed to be nagged by something, too, but when confronted over this, he was elusive. For Mario, anything he revealed to the Hands would be a grave betrayal against his baby bro—and some of the things Luigi revealed to him in these intense moments were better off sealed with brotherly love.

            And now, Luigi was obsessed with Miiverse.

            If he wasn’t training or wowing the crowd, then he was online, browsing through Nintendo’s social networking site. Sometimes, he’d peruse Miiverse in between beating Sandbags at night. Miiverse was all he ever talked about sometimes. The bosses, using a “master computer”, observed increased activity on Luigi’s account. He starting following more users, more users started following him, and he posted up a storm.

            But what they didn’t know was that Luigi spent the majority of his time on Miiverse scavenging for cyberbullies. It was as if he struck a gold mine. In the days following Marth’s fate, it was open season for the Flower Princess and her plumber. Some of the posts Luigi came across were unfit for print and often sexual in nature. He didn’t engage in direct conversation—he simply hit the “Report” button, hoping that it would ban the perpetrators from the site. Alas, they’d come roaring back under different accounts. As the days passed, Luigi’s list grew and grew.

            **Tristan.**

**Manny.**

**Shane.**

**Brunden.**

**Petey Piranha.**

**Porky.**

**Galleom.**

**Duon.**

**Rayquaza.**

**King Koopa.**

**Joshua.**

**Austin.**

**Jack.**

**Maurice.**

**Nathan.**

**Gibson.**

**Spike.**

**Francis.**

**Eddie.**

**Vincent.**

**George.**

**Budd.**

**Claude.**

            Of course, Luigi wasn’t the only one on the hunt. Mandy and Evan were at his side, emotionally and physically. Mario also began peppering Miiverse with follows and posts, scoring up some vital intel. Samus and Falcon used their bounty hunter skills to track down some more cyberbullies. Peach, Rosalina, Palutena, Zelda and Sheik got in on the action, as well. There was much debate on what should be done on the matter. Ultimately, the scavenger hunters reported the cyberbullies to the Miiverse administrators as well as to Master Hand, Crazy Hand and Master Core. The trio sent out stern warnings against this harassment, which were barely heeded. Passionately, Luigi lobbied them to consider harsher punishments, but they were reluctant to do this, fearing negative effects on the tournament’s popularity.

            Meanwhile, in Sarasaland, Daisy was completely fed up with the hate and demanded the cyberbullies to step up and confess in exchange for clemency. Those who didn’t take her up on her offer were fined or exiled. Those whose offenses were more severe—potential kidnappers, for instance—were imprisoned for a short period of time. The only person keeping her from completely losing her cool was Luigi—and vice versa. They found solace in loving letters, texts and in each other’s arms. Daisy giggled when Luigi told her about his scavenger hunt. As to what he planned to do with them, he let her use her imagination. Her touch was enough to extinguish his anger—for a while, at least. He’d take her with passionate urgency as she gasped encouraging things to him. And when morning arrived, he’d return to the Smash Mansion in very sunny spirits.

            “She’s helping him,” MC said to his sons one day. “We shouldn’t count that out. I’m convinced that we can arrange something for her, after all.”

            “What’s that?” asked Master.

            “First off, we can encourage her to spectate more of the matches,” suggested MC. “We can make this place more—open—to visitors. Or—and this is a big ‘or’—we can get her situated as an assist trophy, like Waluigi.”

            “An assist trophy?” repeated Master. “What if someone summons her against him?”

            “Yeah!” Crazy jumped in. “I think we should talk with her about it!”

            “She’s putting up with enough, given the Miiverse drama,” said MC. He sighed. “I wish there was more we could do.”

            “I know,” said Master, “but if we’re too harsh, then we’ll scare people away.”

            Someone knocked gently on the door.

            “Enter!” commanded MC.

            Why was the trio not surprised when Luigi stepped in?

            “Well, he’s been visiting us more often,” offered Master.

            “Yeah, and it appears that he’s trying to get his friendship with us back on track,” added Crazy.

            “And by the looks of things, he’s in need of some counsel,” observed MC.

            “Who are you guys talking to?” asked Luigi.

            “You know—them,” said MC. “Come, have a seat. Help yourself to some coffee.”

            Luigi accepted both. That was when the three got a very good look at him. He’d never looked so vulnerable since the 3-Minute Smash incident. His green getup was mildly rumpled, and all of his body was mottled with bruises. There were places where the perspiration hadn’t quite dried, and through the thick slathering, the trio made out tear tracks. It was then that they noticed the reddened, red-rimmed eyes.

            “What’s going on, L?” Master Hand asked gently.

            “I’m sorry,” Luigi said softly.

            “You’re talking about…” began MC.

            “Yes, and the day before that, too,” added Luigi. “I didn’t know what I was thinking. I thought I was over that phase. But it’s not me being bullied this time. It’s my Princess. You won’t believe…”

            “Thanks to you and your friends, we are aware of that situation,” said Master. “We’ve sent out warnings and emphasized zero tolerance on cyberbullying. But you’ve got to understand, although you want justice done, there’s only so much we can do without being seen as dictators.”

            “Of course. The same old song,” said Luigi. “Still, it was wrong for me to fly into a rage. I’m trying not to, but—it’s hard. _Dio_ , it’s so hard!” He choked back a few sobs.

            “Is she making you feel better?” asked Crazy.

            “Yes. The late-night sparring I get in helps, too. But it’s getting to all of us—even Peach.”

            “We noticed that Koopa joined in on the harassing,” said MC, “and yet he cheered you on when you battled us that day. He’s also acted pretty chummy with you sometimes.”

            “Hypocrite,” muttered Luigi. “He just wanted Daisy in Smash so he’d have another Princess to kidnap. Not that he’d succeed, anyway.”

            “Believe us when we say it’s easy to take matters into one’s own hands,” said Master, “but we’re happy to see that you’re restraining yourself, reporting the perps when you obviously desired to do worse. It also helps that you’re talking to Mandy, Evan, Daisy, Mario, Yoshi and your other friends. But if it gets to a certain point, we think you should get in touch with these people and talk to them. Use our words.”

            “Sure. It’s not like they’ll listen to me. Nobody ever listens to me.”

            “L, we know that some of your days have been close to unbearable, but you need to hold on a second longer. Things are going to get better,” promised MC.

            Luigi nodded. “I want us to start fresh,” he told them. “I want us to be friends again. But you have to stop with the lax approaches to this situation. Are you absolutely positive that there’s nothing else you can do?”

            “We’re afraid so, L,” said Crazy.

            “I just don’t know what to do,” confessed Luigi, rubbing his temples. “I honestly don’t think I can withstand anymore.”

            “L,” said Master.

            Luigi looked up.

            “You’re doing it already,” smiled the Hand.

            A slow smile spread across the plumber’s face. “ _Grazie_ , Master Hand.”

            “No, thank _you_ for reaching out to us,” said Master.

            “And if you need more help, don’t hesitate to let us know,” added MC.

            Luigi nodded, stood, and saw himself out.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            All of the Smashers were engaged in the brunt of their matches, which meant that it was time for their rooms to be cleaned. Various Miis assumed responsibility for that task, but this time was different. The three bosses decided to pitch in, as well—but they had an excuse.

            Accompanied by the ever-trusty Kyle, they entered Luigi’s room. As the Mii began tidying up, MC found himself drawn to Luigi’s laptop. Almost immediately, he booted it up and logged onto Miiverse under his own account.

            “What are you doing?” asked Crazy.

            “What does it look like I’m doing?” retorted MC as he clicked on Luigi’s picture, opening up his profile.

            “Dad, we’re all worried for him, but this…” objected Master.

            “This will take but a minute,” assured MC.

            He was quite wrong on the matter. Once Luigi’s profile loaded, MC began scrolling down the various posts Luigi made. Many of them were written in Italian, but it wasn’t the language grabbing MC’s interest. It was the increasing abundance of all-caps and exclamation points. Whatever Luigi was posting about, he felt very strongly over it.

            Curiosity took over, and MC input a translate command. His breath hitched. “Oh, my God.”

            “What?” the Hands asked.

            “Take a look at this,” gasped MC.

            His sons obeyed. They, too, gasped. Luigi’s posts started off relatively harmless, yet they became increasingly—aggressive. Angry missives regarding the cyberbullies targeting Daisy. Frustration-filled vents and rants. Veiled threats. They even caught some profanity! MC filtered his search to 2008, the Brawl days, where Luigi’s posts were filled with stress, angst and rage, calling his first, devastating “hidden power” to mind.

            “God Almighty,” breathed Master. “What have these people done?”

            “I don’t think it started there,” said MC, opening another window and accessing the Smash database and archives. He pulled up the old online blog they used to have prior to Miiverse and clicked on Luigi’s name.

            The first posts under his account were happy and excited, talking about the friends he made. Gradually, however, they began to take on a competitive tone. Not hostile, but a distinct determination to notch some victories under his belt.

            “This must’ve been when the teasing started,” said Master, recalling the countless acts of bullying he directly and indirectly witnessed.

            “That’s why he was so focused in his early battles,” said Crazy. “He wanted to prove the bullies wrong.”

            “I knew there was something locked inside of him,” mused Master. “I knew from the moment I accepted him as a Smasher.”

            Mere moments into their search, they came across an old blog post which was extremely unsettling.

            It was a copy of the Smash 64 tier list, the fated piece of paper which many of the Smashers used as a social hierarchy. But that wasn’t the unsettling part.

            A diagonal, black line was slashed through every last character on the S, A and B tiers. Even cute, little Kirby and Mario, the supportive older brother. There was no question as to his feelings regarding that tier list and the effects his poor placement—dead last—had on his morale and quite possibly his psyche. Master recalled that the teasing didn’t really start up till he posted that infernal thing. That was why he didn’t bother with a tier list in this tournament.

            “This is insane,” gasped Master. “Most of the originals didn’t partake in the teasing—did they?”

            “Not that I recall,” shrugged Crazy. “Then again, I wasn’t the final boss.”

            “Wait,” said Master. “He was pretty aggressive on the top tier fighters. Especially Fox and Falcon. Given that he was labeled the worst fighter in Smash…”

            “Poor little Kirby,” shuddered Crazy. “He knew nothing about tiers. He’s just a baby.”

            “Well, Ness was a kid, and he knew what that list meant,” objected MC.

            “Maybe because he was picked on for not being top-tier,” said Master. “And Kirby—he was never a braggart about it. He’s always been bubbly, no matter what.”

            “No doubt, Luigi’s position on this tier list was the main source for the abuse he faced in 1999,” continued Master. “How else can this be explained? I guess he figured if he won against top-tier fighters, then he’d be taken more seriously.”

            He froze as he came across old blog entries denouncing and decrying not only being bottom-tier, but also the tier-list itself. Luigi had accused it of destroying friendships and instituting a “pecking order” which encouraged the antics he’d often fallen victim to. The trio could physically feel the sorrow, bitterness and anger in every word.

            “So it wasn’t the top-tiers he was angry at,” said MC. “It was the whole concept of the tier list.”

            “Why didn’t he tell us?” demanded Master. “Or better yet, why didn’t we suspect anything? I guess he was right—we were too focused on the tournament to pay attention to him, the Eternal Understudy.”

            “This—it explains everything, doesn’t it?” asked MC. “I mean, the continued aggression and unpredictable victories in the other tourneys.”

            “Let’s go to the Melee years and find out,” said Crazy.

            Sure enough, a similar post was on Luigi’s Melee page. Though he’d advanced to mid-tier, there was no love lost between him and the top tiers, especially Fox. The vulpine had developed a superiority complex in the first two tournaments, and it took a nerf to mid-tier in order to correct that issue.

            At least they could be relaxed by the color. Had it been red, they would’ve been in a cold sweat. They remembered the day when Luigi had showed them that old list. Thankfully, none of the originals were on it. But the blood-red line through each bully’s name was seared into their memories, as well as Master Hand’s own name, in thick block letters.

            “In his home universe, Mario’s gotten more fame than him,” murmured Master. “I guess when he filled out the application to participate in Smash, he hoped that circumstance would change. But instead, it followed him.”

            Crazy cursed. “Man, it was staring us right in the face,” he rued. “But we were too fascinated with some stupid plaque to see it.”

            “Crazy, you know why we were fixated on that thing,” said Master. “We thought it would spell out some sort of prophecy involving Luigi—which it did.”

            “That’s the point. We didn’t have to,” said Crazy. “All we had to do was take a look at the tier list, pay more attention to the goings-on around this tournament and, I don’t know, talk to Luigi directly instead of bothering Mario and Peach.”

            Master heaved a sigh. “You’re right. Maybe then, he wouldn’t have resorted to such rash actions last year.”

            Just then, MC switched back to Miiverse. “New posts are coming in,” he observed.

            As soon as they unveiled the new posts, the blood in their veins froze. Quite a few of the incoming posts spewed venom about Daisy. And some of them, directed at the Mario Bros. and their princesses, came from none other than one of their faithful Mii helpers, Kyle.

            Slowly, they turned and looked at the Mii, who was presently taking a break from cleaning duties and absorbed in his mobile device without a care.

            Loudly, MC cleared his throat.

            Kyle turned and looked at them. “Oh, my apologies,” he said sweetly. “Just taking a break.”

            “And this is how you spend it?” asked MC. “Targeting the Mario Bros. on Miiverse?”

            “I’ve done no such thing,” said Kyle.

            “The proof is right in front of us,” said Master, showing Kyle the incriminating posts.

            Slowly, Kyle began to back away. “I—I can explain,” he started.

            “We trusted you,” said Crazy. “We gave you food and shelter in exchange for your services, and this is how you thank us?”

            “I’m just frustrated, okay?” blurted Kyle. “Those two have been getting most of the attention lately, and I’m sick of it!”

            “Regardless, that is no excuse to attack two of our treasured Smash veterans,” MC said sternly. “We’ll give you two choices. Go to them, confess what you’ve done and apologize, or be punished accordingly.”

            “No way I’m facing those plumbers!” balked Kyle. “They’ll kill me.”

            “You have until midnight to reach a final decision,” announced Master. “You are dismissed. We’ll finish cleaning the room.”

            Kyle walked out of the room, cursing under his breath.

            “Wow,” grumbled MC. “The day’s just past half over, and already I need a drink.”

            “I can’t believe Kyle would stab us in the back like that,” said Master.

            “Let’s just hope he does the right thing and owns up to the Mario Bros.,” said Crazy. “Otherwise, we’ll be in a race against time to punish them—before they do.”


	14. The Usual Suspects

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to this as you read: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VZqloCNBSVA

            Luigi could taste the shower’s water.  It trickled into his mouth, colder than steel and as refreshing as peppermint.  He closed his eyes and let it mingle with his eyelashes and slide over his eyelids.  Both of his hands were pressed against the wall as he leaned into the spray, fervent sounds of pleasure escaping his lips.  He wouldn’t look at whatever was swirling down the drain.  Because then, it would all come back.

            The discovery that Kyle had finally crossed that line and targeted Daisy and Peach.  As soon as his eye fell on the posts, he and Mario had dropped what they were doing on a dime and paid the Chrom look-alike a little visit.  Neither Mario Bro screamed or raised his voice.  They kept their tone calm and conversational as they showered Kyle with compliments, telling him how invaluable his assistance was and how much of a powerhouse he was in battle, before bringing up the Miiverse posts and asking him if he had a hand in any of them.  At that, Kyle shifted uncomfortably, averted his eyes from the two plumbers, and mumbled about how much stress he was going through lately, looking like a Fire Emblem character and all.  His tone started turning hostile and defensive as he went off on a tangent about how much attention the Mario characters were getting compared to everyone else in Nintendo, demanding to know what made them think they were so special—they just started off as blobs of pixels along with the rest of them.

            Kyle’s sudden rant was proof enough for the Mario Bros.  They managed to resist the temptation to jump the Mii right then and there.  Maintaining their composure, they told Kyle the story of how Nintendo was struggling in 1981 following the disaster that was _Radar Scope_ , of how they came up with a Popeye-mirroring plot and of the rent-demanding landlord who gave Mario his name.  They talked about how the _Donkey Kong_ arcade pulled Nintendo out of its rut and of the video-game crash two years later, when they finally decided to release Luigi into the world.  Once the history lesson was over, Kyle was terribly, _terribly_ sorry for his outburst and treated them to spaghetti with their favorite pasta sauce and extra cheese to make it up to them, explaining that he’d gotten into an argument with Master Hand, Crazy Hand and Master Core and just wanted someone to take it out on—and Mario and Luigi had drawn the short straw.

            Finally, Luigi had posed the million-dollar question—was Kyle truly sorry for his Miiverse posts?

            To which Kyle had quickly replied: “Yes.”

            Since the events of last year, Luigi had obtained a “sixth sense” which enabled him to tell whether or not an apology was sincere.  And sitting there, eating spaghetti and looking into Kyle’s eyes, Luigi could tell that the Mii had uttered a bald-faced lie.  He was just saying that to re-earn their favor—as well as the bosses’—so he wouldn’t get kicked out.

            One look at Mario, and there was no question that he’d reached the same conclusion as well.  The brothers had thanked Kyle very much for the spaghetti and then sent him on his way, with no definitive answer as to whether or not they forgave him.  He deserved to squirm for a long, _long_ time.

            And then there was his last match for the day, a big battle with Mewtwo and Lucario at Lumiose City.  There, Luigi had many opportunities to show Mewtwo that he wasn’t sulking over Daisy, and he used them.  Most of the damage points on the Psychic Pokémon came from the green-clad man.  He had better chemistry with Lucario, as the Aura Pokémon frequently invited him to attend his private yoga sessions.  Plus, he was using his Aura Sense to pinpoint cyberbullies.  This wasn’t a Team Battle, but they’d frequently double-team Mewtwo, just for the heck of it.  The throwdown was far from pretty, with Mewtwo spamming his Shadow Balls and Confusion, among other telekinetic moves.  It all culminated in a memorable Sudden Death, in which Mewtwo spectacularly owned his two opponents for the win.  Luigi had placed third.  But it wasn’t the loss that got to him—he was used to losing.  It was what Mewtwo had said to him as he celebrated his victory:

            _How can you defend your brother and your Princess if you can’t even defend yourself?_

            To which the majority of the audience had responded with a resounding “Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!”

            “Mewtwo!” Lucario said sternly.  “What has gotten into you lately?  It’s okay to be happy you won, but that was too harsh!”

            _What do you mean?  The audience seems to like it._

            Indeed, select audience members were playfully punching each other on the shoulder and laughing as if Mewtwo had delivered an excellent comeback during an argument.  Lucario clearly read the Auras of all of them, and he knew that it wasn’t the only thing they were laughing about.

            “Hey, Mewtwo,” said Luigi.

            _Yes?_

            “That was a nice fight.”  Luigi seemed unfazed by the words spoken to him.

            _Of course it is, because I beat you._

            “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

            “You know what?  That’s enough!” snapped Lucario.  “Just shake hands and be done with it!”

            “Yeah, buddy,” Luigi said softly.  “You’ve won better than this.  I’ve known you long enough to know that.  Is this a phase you’re going through?”

            Mewtwo didn’t answer him, nor did he shake the plumber’s hand.

            Luigi stared blankly at him before heaving a sigh.  “Well, I guess I’ll see you guys around,” he said finally, before taking his leave.

            _What a weakling.  He barely even put up a fight._

            “That isn’t true, and you know it,” huffed Lucario.  “Let’s go take a shower and cool off.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            In the shower, the water cascading over him, those events seemed eons ago.  Luigi stood in silence, save for the rushing water, his breathing and his occasional utterances of enjoyment.  Prior to this was one of the most intense, deep-cleansing washes he’d done in his life.  Just him, his favorite sponge and his favorite body wash, the soapy, soft suds covering his body, the caresses of the sponge, not too rough, but not too gentle.  Grit, grime and two awful experiences falling away, like barnacles from a ship.  Rinsing off and scrubbing again, and again, and again until he felt perfectly clean, the slight ache in his arms worth it.  About an hour of deep clean, and now this, the cooling remedy of water.  He tipped back his head and allowed the stream to thread through his hair.  Next time, he’d bring his shampoo along.  From the tip of his scalp to the bangs on the back of his neck, there was a feeling of rejuvenation.  Rivulets of shower water tickled his neck, and from deep in his throat came another soft moan.  He knew that his time in this oasis was coming to a close, but that was what made it so special.

            He wrapped a towel around himself and stepped out of the shower.  Delicately, he dried himself off and combed his still-damp hair before styling it in his usual way.  All the while, he was whistling a happy tune to himself.  Finally, he slipped into his Ice Flower outfit, placed a blue hat snugly on his head, and was out the door.

            Master Hand passed him by as he exited the locker room.  “Hey, L,” he said.

            Luigi paused.  “Yes?”

            “Lucario told me about what Mewtwo said to you,” said Master Hand.

            “And?”

            “He won’t be bothering you again for a while.  I’ve suspended him for a whole month.”

            For a moment, Luigi looked at Master.  Suddenly, he threw himself at the glove, capturing it in a hug.  “Thank you,” he gasped, overcome with sudden emotion.  “Thank you.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Master Hand returned to his office to find Kyle waiting for him.

            “I did it,” he announced.  “I confessed and apologized to them.”

            “What did they say?” asked Master.

            “They liked the spaghetti I cooked for them,” said Kyle, “and they talked about how Mario rescued Nintendo from the brink of bankruptcy.  I learned a ton from them.”

            “See?  They’re not like you think,” said Master.

            “Could you and your old man see fit to give me a second chance?” queried Kyle.

            “We’ll render a decision later today,” promised Master, “but you must be willing to accept any and all consequences for your actions.”

            Kyle nodded.  “I am.”

            “Good.  Now go relax.”

            Kyle obeyed, and Master Hand situated himself at his desk before speaking into the intercom.

            “Attention, Smashers.  Please proceed to the auditorium for an emergency meeting.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Master Hand entered the auditorium and faced the crowd of curious Smashers.

            “I appreciate you all taking the time to come down here,” he said.

            “What’s this about?” asked Mario.  “Have we done something wrong?”

            “Crazy Hand, Master Core and myself—we’ve received reports of vicious cyberbullying on Miiverse,” said Master.  “Now, I’m not going to name names, but those who partook in this—you know who you are, and you know what you did.”  He took special note of those who visibly shifted, exchanged looks, or otherwise reacted.

            He was aware that Luigi was taking special note, too.

            “Effective immediately, I am shutting down all of Miiverse until all of this is sorted out,” announced Master, “and the same goes for our Smash blog.”

            “Whoa, whoa.  Hold up.  How did this happen?” asked Little Mac.

            “I must emphasize zero tolerance on abusing the Miiverse site,” explained Master.

            “So this started happening just now?” asked Palutena.

            “I—wish I could say ‘yes’, Lady Palutena.”

            Gasps arose.

            “But you’ll catch them, right?” Peach piped up.  “You’ll make sure they’ll never have access to the site again.”

            “Of course,” promised Master.

            “Master Hand,” Ryu spoke up.  “How long has this cyberbullying been going on?”

            “Well, Ryu, this was just brought to our attention, so there’s no way of knowing.  And by the way, this could be some sort of a misunderstanding…”

            “How long, Master Hand?” Reflet wanted to know.  “Tell us.”

            Master swallowed.  “Right now, it’s observed that this harassing has targeted one of our fighters since the site’s inception, and with the results of the Smash Ballot, it’s only worsened.”

            “Who would do something like that?” gasped Lucas.

            “Whoever they are, they’re going to regret it,” promised Cloud.

            “That’s true, Cloud,” said Master, “so we just need to keep steady and think positive, because one way or another, Crazy, MC and I will get to the bottom of this.”

            “Well, I’ve heard that some of the Miis here are doing it,” Robin put in.

            “Miis?” gasped everyone else.

            “It appears that you may need some time to process this, so anyone not in the mood for fighting, I’ll go light on tomorrow’s matches, and I’m sure this will all be cleared up before long.”

            “Go light?  I don’t think so!” shouted Mario.  “I feel like I want to brawl all through the night!”

            There were cries of affirmation.

            “Settle down, Smashers,” warned Master.

            “May I ask you something, Master Hand?” Samus spoke up.  “Have they ever targeted you?”

            “Sometimes,” Master quietly admitted.

            “For the record, I think Marth and the others got what was coming to them,” said Samus.

            There was brief silence.

            “Okay,” said Master Hand.  “All but the following are dismissed: Pikachu, Kirby, Douglas, Fox, Yoshi, Jigglypuff and Mario.  I need to speak with the seven of you in my office.”

            Everyone else stood up and filed out of the auditorium, some of them with guilty looks on their faces…

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Once the selected seven were in Master’s office, the glove closed and locked the door.

            “Poyo?” asked Kirby.

            “No, Kirby, this isn’t about you frequently raiding the pantry,” Master assured him.

            “Mamma-mia—I’m really starting to feel like we’re in trouble,” shuddered Mario.

            “In the court of law, you’re innocent until proven guilty, and that’s no different here,” said Master.  “So, no matter what you hear about Smash and Miiverse becoming a hideout for cyberbullies, trolls and the like, there’s no reason to worry—unless, you have something to confess.”

            “I’ve got a date with all-you-can-eat lobster tails, Master Hand,” said Fox.  “What does this have to do with us?”

            “The answer lies in this piece of paper,” said Master, dramatically revealing a very familiar document.

            “POYO!” screamed Kirby.

            “FALCON—CRINGE!”

            “JIGGLY!”

            “YOSHI!”

            “PIKAAA!”

            “Mamma F—er!”

            “Oh, dear God, no!”

            It was the infamous tier list from the first tourney.  The seven Smashers wasted no time pelting it with projectiles.

            “Everyone, calm down,” said Master Hand.  “I know that this wasn’t—and isn’t—very popular.”

            “Yeah, you think?” yelped Fox.  “This is bringing back some unwanted memories!”

            “Unwanted memories, you say?” Master arched an eyebrow.  “Out of guilt, perhaps?”

            “My eyes!  My eyes!” screamed Falcon.

            “Come on,” sighed Master.  “It can’t be that bad.”

            “What does— _that_ —have to do with anything?!” Mario wanted to know, treating the tier list like hazardous waste.

            “There is reason to believe that this lovely piece of paper was the root of all of this nonsense,” explained Master.

            “Back then, all we had was dial-up and blogging!” objected Falcon.

            “I’m not just talking about what’s happening currently,” clarified Master.  “Based on my observations, as soon as I put up this thing, tension arose among the fighters.  One of my Smashers has complained of being teased as a result of his placement on this list.  And this is what he’s done to it.”

            Master revealed a second piece of paper, showing the tier list with the fighters in the “S”, “A” and “B” tiers having a diagonal black line drawn through them.

            This led to even greater uproar.

            “Well, wasn’t this expected?” snapped Mario.  “Don’t you think that maybe the tier list was some sort of tricked-out conspiracy to encourage competitive and dare I say hostile attitudes?  When we first got here, we could wait to know each other.  Sure, we were beating each other up, but all we wanted was to have fun and enjoy ourselves.  Then, that tier list came along, and that was when something went awry in the happy-go-lucky world of Nintendo!  I’m glad it’s gone!”

            “Well, that makes two of us,” Master said frankly.  “Actually, three of us, since the Smasher in question has made a similar accusation against the tier list—minus the conspiracy part.”

            “Look, ‘B’ tier isn’t something to boast about,” said Mario.  “Jiggs and I can testify to that.  And furthermore, why do you think one of us would do something like that?”

            “Well, whoever did this would think so,” said Master.  “What else explains the obvious determination to win against you all?”

            “Master Hand, we’ve all had our bad days, but this…” started Falcon.

            “I’ve also observed that your high rankings made some of you cocky,” Master went on.  “Granted, a few of you were cocky before then, but seeing your placements made you take this cockiness and smarminess to the extreme.”

            “Hold up!  Are you calling us bullies?!” balked Fox.  “Who do you think you are?!”

            “Gee, you’re one to talk,” huffed Mario, “seeing how you got in Melee, Mr. 20XX!”

            “I assure you, Mario, those days are behind me,” Fox said wearily.

            “That’s because you got nerfed,” warbled Jigglypuff.

            “Hey.  Look at this,” gasped Falcon.  “The lines through the B tiers are thinner than the S and A tiers.  Why do you suppose…?”

            “Poyo, poyo, poyo!” Kirby broke in.

            “Kirby’s right.  The higher the rank, the more determined he was to beat them,” said Mario.

            “Pika,” murmured Pikachu.

            “There wasn’t any tension between the two of you till Melee, that’s for sure,” Mario told him.

            Master blanched.  “How do you know…?”

            “Because I saw it happen!  Because I tried to do something about it!” Mario exploded.  “And you have the gall to stand here and accuse _me_ of harassing my own brother because of some stupid piece of paper?!”

            “I’m not accusing you of anything!” Master shot back.  “I’m just giving you a chance to confess before the truth surfaces on its own!”

            “Aside from the occasional sibling rivalry and playfully competitive spirit, I’ve got nothing to hide,” said Mario.  “I apologize for my outburst.  I…”

            “We’ll discuss that later,” said Master.  He knew he could rely on Mario to aid him in his investigation.

            “Even if we did let it get to our heads, he eventually forgave us,” said Fox.

            “Yeah!” piped up Falcon.  “As you can see, we’re as thick as thieves now!”

            “Poyo!” Kirby said cheerfully.

            “Yeah, you were never one of them,” smiled Mario, gathering the puffball into his arms.

            “He probably didn’t know what it was,” muttered Fox.

            “Poyo, poyo!” Kirby snapped at him.

            “He knew enough to know what it was like to be kicked all the way to the bottom,” Mario said pointedly.

            “Trust us, Master Hand,” summed up Falcon.  “We would never harm a hair on his head.  Are we dismissed?”

            Master gave them a cunning look.  “Not yet…”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            “What are we doing here, man?  I feel like a criminal,” whined Fox.

            “Falcon—hungry!” added Falcon.

            “Puff!  Jigglypuff!”

            “Poyo!”

            “Pika!”

            “Yoshi!”

            “Mamma mia!”

            “This won’t take long,” Master assured them, smirking.  He had the seven in a police lineup-type room.  “Just want to add a dramatic touch to the situation.”

            Master set up his camera and recording equipment quickly.  “Now, when I call your name, I want you to step forward and say something.  Anything.”

            The seven nodded.

            “Jigglypuff?”

            Jigglypuff shuffled forward.  “Jiggly!  Jiggly!”

            “Thank you.  Pikachu?”

            “Pika-pi!”

            “Thank you.  Fox?”

            The vulpine ambled forward.  “Do a barrel roll!”

            “Thank you.  Kirby?”

            “Hii!”

            “Thank you.  Douglas?”

            “Show me ya moves!”

            “Thank you.  Yoshi?”

            “Yoshi, Yoshi!”

            “Thank you.  Mario?”

            “Here we go!”

            “Thank you.  Now, smile!”

            Feeling slightly ridiculous, the seven Smashers posed as Master snapped a few pictures.

            “Okay.  _Now_ you are dismissed,” said Master.

            The seven practically stampeded out the door.

            Master disconnected the equipment and went to powwow with Crazy and MC.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “A man can convince anyone he’s somebody else, but never himself.”  
> “After that, my guess is that you will never hear from him again. The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist. And like that, poof. He’s gone.”  
> \--The Usual Suspects (1995)


	15. Kronos Unveiled, Part 2

**I’m so tired of being here,**

**Suppressed by all my childish fears.**

**And if you have to leave, I wish that you’d just leave,**

**’Cause your presence still lingers here,**

**And it won’t leave me alone.**

**These wounds won’t seem to heal.**

**This pain is just too real.**

**There’s just too much that time cannot erase—**

**When you’d cry, I’d wipe away all of your tears.**

**When you’d scream, I’d fight away all of your fears.**

**And I’ve held your hand through all of these years,**

**But you still have all of me—**

**You used to captivate me by your resonating mind,**

**But now I’m bound by the life you left behind.**

**Your face, it haunts my once-pleasant dreams.**

**Your voice, it chased away all the sanity in me.**

**These wounds won’t seem to heal.**

**This pain is just too real.**

**There’s just too much that time cannot erase—**

**When you’d cry, I’d wipe away all of your tears.**

**When you’d scream, I’d fight away all of your fears.**

**And I’ve held your hand through all of these years,**

**But you still have all of me—**

**I’ve tried so hard to tell myself that you’re gone,**

**But though you’re still with me, I’ve been alone all along—**

**When you’d cry, I’d wipe away all of your tears.**

**When you’d scream, I’d fight away all of your fears.**

**And I’ve held your hand through all of these years,**

**But you still have all of me—**

**All—**

**Me—**

**All—**

**Me—**

**All—**

**\--Evanescence, “My Immortal”**

            _“In a startling turn of events, a cyberbullying epidemic of titanic proportions has been discovered on the Nintendo social networking site, Miiverse.  These cyberbullies have targeted select members of the Super Smash Brothers fighting tournament as well as Princess Daisy, a hopeful candidate of last year’s Smash Fighter Ballot.  Master Hand, the leader of the tournament, has issued a strong warning against the cyberbullies and has ordered the site temporarily shut down until the perpetrators are brought to justice.  We will bring you more on this story as it develops.”_

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            “Wow,” breathed Mandy.  “I can’t believe that Master Hand is finally taking action.”

            “It took long enough,” said Evan.  “That’s the way life goes sometimes.  It takes something severe to bring a problem to people’s attention.”

            “Yeah, but—is it too late?” queried Mandy.

            “What do you mean?” asked Evan.

            “L is severely scarred from this, as well as from the past,” explained Mandy.  “He’s doing his best to forgive and forget, but I can see it in his eyes.  And I’m angry, too.”

            “Me, three,” murmured Evan, pulling his fiancée down on top of him and kissing her, “but we need to trust him again.  Only then can we finally move on from all of this.”

            Mandy rolled her eyes.  “I guess you’re right,” she muttered.

            The engaged couple proceeded to passionately make out.

            “Hey, I wonder what Master wanted with those seven,” said Evan as he peeled off Mandy’s shirt.

            “Whatever it is, it certainly isn’t good,” concurred Mandy as she ran her fingers over Evan’s tattooed chest.

            “Let’s stop talking about it,” Evan breathed as they moved close.

            “Agreed.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            “Surely, my dear Master Hand, this is a route we should’ve taken long ago,” said Master Core.

            “I had a gut feeling,” Master Hand told his father.  “As soon as I pinned up that thing, my spider senses started tingling like mad.  And Mario’s right, that was when everyone started getting a little more competitive.”

            “Come to think of it, the ‘C’ tiers _did_ look a bit demoralized,” said Crazy, “but since I didn’t get to interact with them much…”

            “I remember taking some of them aside and talking to them about it, telling them not to let it define their worth,” said Master.  He sighed.  “If only I’d talked to Luigi, though…”

            He took a deep breath.  “He was a bit bummed about it, but that didn’t last long.  I just thought he’d moved on from it.”

            “We though the same thing about this,” said Crazy.

            “I don’t think it’s the Ballot he’s upset over,” sighed MC.  “It’s the fact that Daisy didn’t get a chance to—show her moves.”

            “But really, bro?  You think that one of them got a little carried away with their rankings?” asked Crazy.

            “Not a little,” clarified Master.  “ _Very_ carried away.”

            “I’m going to make some cocoa,” said MC.  “You want any?”

            “I’d love some,” replied Master.

            “Yeah,” seconded Crazy.

            As MC went away, Crazy began to doodle absentmindedly on a blank piece of paper.  Master, however, settled back in his chair, deep in thought—

 

**Flashback: 1999**

            Master Hand peeked around the corner and smiled.  Seated at a quiet table by the window were Kirby and Pikachu, celebrating their position as top-tiers.  A large banana split sat between them, and the two took turns feeding each other spoonfuls of the delicious, creamy treat.

            “Hello, you two,” said Master as he revealed himself.  “I must say, you make an adorable couple.”

            The statement was met with objections of “pika”-ing and “poyo”-ing.

            “Just friends, you say?” Master jokingly queried.  “Well, judging by the way you were spooning that banana split into the other’s mouth, your friendship could turn into—something more.”

            “Pika, pika, pika-pi,” said Pikachu.

            “Oh, definitely.  I’m sure Ash would be extremely proud of you,” Master said.  He turned to Kirby, “and the people of Dreamland would be extremely proud of their little hero.  But remember, your placement on the tier list does not mean special privileges.  You still have to follow the rules.”

            The two let out an affirmative “Pika” and “Poyo”.

            “Besides, it does not mean you are necessarily better than anyone else,” Master firmly went on.  “It just means that you have better match-ups on the battlefield.”

            “Poyo, poyo, poyo, poyo, po, poy, po-poyo, poyoyo,” said Kirby.

            “Well, it’s nice to hear that you won’t let the tier list get in the way of your friendships,” said Master, “but I must warn you, some of them will.”

            “Pika?” asked Pikachu.

            “Because—that’s just the way they are,” sighed Master.

            “Poyo, poyo,” Kirby piped up.

            “Wait.  What about Luigi?”

            Kirby sadly looked down.  “Poyo, poyo, poyo, poyo, po-poyo,” he said quietly.

            “Well, Kirby, it’s natural to be upset over being last at something,” counseled Master.  “It has—negative connotations.  But Luigi’s a strong man.  He’ll get over it.  And—he’s actually pretty good on the battlefield with his powerful attacks.  He’s just last because he’s awkward, floaty, laggy and has approach issues.  It’s all about the physics.”

            “Pika, pika, pika,” offered Pikachu.

            Kirby brightened.  “Poyo!”

            “Luigi most certainly _can_ use his bad traction to his advantage,” agreed Master Hand.  “Like I said, being last on the tier list doesn’t necessarily make him bad.”

            The puffball and the electric mouse began to “poyo” and “pika” among themselves as they continued to share their dessert.

            “If I may,” Master broke in, “you might want to save some of that.  To cheer him up.”

            The two nodded, beaming at him.

            “YES!!”

            Master whirled to see Falcon standing a short distance away, accompanied by Fox.

            “Guess what?  We’re with the champions!  And we want to celebrate with a nice sundae on the house!” Falcon announced.

            “Sorry guys,” Master said wryly.  “You have to pay up like everyone else.”

            “Aw, man,” groaned the two high-tiers.

            “Can we at least get a discount?” asked Douglas.

            “Poyo!” Kirby said sternly.

            Master wagged his finger at the bounty hunter and the vulpine.  “Heavy hangs the head that last night wore the crown,” he chided.

            “Whatever!  Can we get something sweet, please?” Falcon demanded of the glove.

            “If you have the money for it,” said Master.

            Eventually, the two settled for paying for a premium sundae each.  They made themselves comfy and proceeded to loudly brag about their rankings, a stark contrast to Pikachu and Kirby’s subtle acknowledgment.

            “I’d better go see about the others,” said Master.  “Let me know if you need anything.  Fox, Falcon—try to behave.”

 

**Flashback End**

            “I’m back!” sang out MC, bringing three cups of cocoa topped with whipped cream and shavings.

            Crazy took his mug and began noisily slurping it down, uncaring of the temperature.  Master nursed his mug, eating off some of the whipped cream first and blowing on the substance to cool it.

            “It’s late,” he murmured to MC.  “You think we should sleep on all of this?”

            MC turned to him.  “You’re thinking about something.  What is it?”

            Master shrugged.  “Oh, nothing.  I have a date with the top and high tiers of tournaments past tomorrow.  Better get some shut-eye.”

            “You’re right; we have a big day ahead of us,” said MC.  “Don’t sit on that cocoa for too long.”

            “I won’t.”

            Master took a small sip of cocoa.  “Now, where was I…?” he murmured.

 

**Continue Flashback**

            Master made his way out of the ice-cream parlor to attend to his other duties.  Before the door closed after him, though…

            “Hey, Fox, once we’re finished, how about we go and get that last-place loser?  See how low he is?”

            “Ah.  I’m in.”

            Master froze.  Should he reprimand them or not?  Eventually, he determined that their common sense would prevail and turned his attention back to his plans for the Smashers.

            _Later…_

            Master was slumped in his chair, dozing, when the sounds of unrest woke him.

            Such was the abruptness that Master was out of his seat before he came fully awake and nearly fell backwards as a result.  The only thing saving him was the back of the chair, which he clutched like a life preserver.  “What the…?” he gasped.

            Bumping.  Crashing.  Scuffling.  Voices.

            Master darted out of his office, floating toward the source of the noises.  As he reached his destination, he could swear he heard music playing.  Was that “The Rocky Road To Dublin”?  Someone had an interesting taste in music!

            He continued down a corridor and hesitated at a large, spacious room, where the chaos seemed to have originated from.  Immediately, he crept forward and then positioned himself where he could observe the action without being seen.  And he couldn’t believe what he saw—

            Luigi, icy anger written all over a hard face, lunging and solidly landing blows on an assailant attempting to gang up on him.  The man in green had a funny-colored egg on his jaw and temples, a black eye and discoloration and swelling on both his cheeks.  Blood dotted certain areas on his visage and turned his mustache maroon.  Upon closer inspection, Master Hand realized that it was Captain Falcon he was fighting, and the racer seemed a tad—clumsy—with his punches.  He must’ve imbibed generously and had some trouble handling his liquor.  But had Luigi been drinking, as well?  His eyes were clear and crisp, the pupils dilated enough for Master to see Falcon’s reflection in them.  He wasn’t stumbling, keeping up a rapid flow of stunning punches and occasional kicks.  He dodged Falcon’s swings and countered with fireballs.  Emotions emanated from the plumber like aromas, so powerful that Master was left breathless.  He sensed a peculiar determination eclipsing the ire.  But what did Falcon say to set this into motion?  Then, he recalled what he overheard between Falcon and Fox.  Looked like common sense didn’t win out, after all.

 **While in the merry month of May from me home I started,**  
Left the girls of Tuam so sad and broken hearted,  
Saluted father dear, kissed me darling mother,  
Drank a pint of beer, me grief and tears to smother,  
Then off to reap the corn, leave where I was born,  
Cut a stout black thorn to banish ghosts and goblins;  
Bought a pair of brogues rattling o'er the bogs  
And fright'ning all the dogs on the rocky road to Dublin.

 **One, two, three four, five,**  
Hunt the Hare and turn her down the rocky road  
all the way to Dublin, Whack follol de rah!

            Encircling two were the other six Smashers, Mario holding Fox around the waste so he wouldn’t intercede.  Judging by his absence of injuries, Fox had used words as his weapons.  There were the C tiers cheering for Luigi, along with the B tiers, Jiggs and Mario—even Kirby and Pikachu, the S tiers!  The A tiers were divided on who they should cheer for—Falcon was one of their own, yet he stepped out of line, and it was nice to see the underdog standing up for himself.

            In his hiding spot, Master Hand debated stopping the fight and punishing the combatants or just letting them burn themselves out.  After all, the only fighting he wanted to see was on the battlefield, following set, strict regulations.  But—

            But—

            Here was “the worst player in the tournament”, “the last-place loser”, holding his own against a stronger fighter!  It visibly inspired Link and company, even Samus—the fellow bounty hunter nursing a secret crush on the racer (which she repeatedly denied).  Maybe Sakurai made a mistake when composing this tier list.  Where was he, anyway?  Sitting in his big office, laughing about how he turned Smash on its ear?  Someone bring him over here to see this!  He’d love to stick his face in it!

 **In Mullingar that night I rested limbs so weary,**  
Started by daylight next morning blithe and early,  
Took a drop of pure to keep me heartfrom sinking;  
That’s a Paddy's cure whenever he's on drinking.  
See the lassies smile, laughing all the while  
At me curious style, 'twould set your heart a bubblin'  
Asked me was I hired, wages I required,  
I was almost tired of the rocky road to Dublin.

 **One, two, three four, five,**  
Hunt the Hare and turn her down the rocky road  
all the way to Dublin, Whack follol de rah!

            Master barely heard Falcon slurring out frustrated oaths as he continued to attack.  Nor did he hear Fox’s desperate cries.  He was focused on the intensity Luigi exuded as he dodged, bobbed and weaved before going back on the offensive.  He exhaled deeply, rapidly, as he dodged or threw a blow.  When Falcon got a blow in, pain flashed across Luigi’s face for a short second before he reoriented himself and he gave his instigator a look which simply couldn’t be put into words.

 **In Dublin next arrived, I thought it such a pity**  
To be soon deprived a view of that fine city.  
So then I took a stroll, all among the quality;  
Me bundle it was stole, all in a neat locality.  
Something crossed me mind, when I looked behind,  
No bundle could I find upon me stick a wobblin'  
Enquiring for the rogue, they said me Connaught brogue  
Wasn't much in vogue on the rocky road to Dublin.

 **One, two, three four, five,**  
Hunt the Hare and turn her down the rocky road  
all the way to Dublin, Whack follol de rah!

            Tearing himself away from the commotion, Master retreated back to his office before he could be noticed.  During this return trip, he heard Luigi beginning to shout a little, too.  His voice didn’t sound slurred, to the glove’s relief.  Maybe he had better alcohol tolerance.  Who could tell?

 **From there I got away, me spirits never falling,**  
Landed on the quay, just as the ship was sailing.  
The Captain at me roared, said that no room had he;  
When I jumped aboard, a cabin found for Paddy.  
Down among the pigs, played some hearty rigs,  
Danced some hearty jigs, the water round me bubbling;  
When off Holyhead I wished meself was dead,  
Or better for instead on the rocky road to Dublin.

 **One, two, three four, five,**  
Hunt the Hare and turn her down the rocky road  
all the way to Dublin, Whack follol de rah!

            Back in his office, Master sent a very polite e-mail to Sakurai, thanking him for his work in putting that magnificent tier list together and then busied himself with more work, all the while listening to the sounds from afar.  Luigi’s voice grew a bit louder till it nearly drowned out Falcon’s, but someone turned up the music.  Master had to hand it to them—the traditional ballad was the perfect soundtrack to Smash to!

 **Well the boys of Liverpool, when we safely landed,**  
Called meself a fool, I could no longer stand it.  
Blood began to boil, temper I was losing;  
Poor old Erin's Isle they began abusing.  
"Hurrah me soul" says I, me Shillelagh I let fly.  
Some Galway boys were nigh and saw I was a hobble in,  
With a load "hurray !" joined in the affray.  
We quitely cleared the way for the rocky road to Dublin.

 **One, two, three four, five,**  
Hunt the Hare and turn her down  
the rocky road and all the way to Dublin,  
Whack follol de rah!

He waited until the activity started to simmer down.  Then, he announced over the PA system that it was time to get ready for the day’s final matches.

 

**Flashback End**

            The first familiar notes jolted Master Hand from his trip down memory lane.  Suddenly, he felt as if he’d been transported to the Twilight Zone.  It was the _same song_!  The spirited tune he’d forever associate with the aftermath of that tier list, with an A tier’s failed attempt to intimidate a lowly C tier.  And now, Luigi was blasting it during—whatever he was doing right now.

            Did he ever lie in bed at night and remember?  How long did it take for the incident to be swept under the rug?  Surely, Luigi and Falcon were on good terms now.  The latter’s nerfs in Melee and Brawl probably had something to do with it.  The former top-tiers attributed their drops to karmic-like retribution for their pride and arrogance.  And maybe they were right.

            Master finished the last of his cocoa and hopped into bed.  He fell asleep to the sounds of the Irish folk song and the thud of fists against a sand-filled canvas.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            “Jigglypuff?  Were you in here all night?” MC wanted to know.

            Jigglypuff put a stubby arm to her lips and indicated the slumbering plumber.

            “How long have you been with him?” whispered Crazy.

            “Puff,” replied Jiggs.

            “So, you used Sing to calm him down?” murmured Master.  “That’s nice of you.”

            “You didn’t draw on him with that black marker of yours, did you?” queried Crazy.

            “Jiggly.”

            Luigi was curled up in a sleeping bag beside Jiggs, a warm blanket tucked around him.  Whenever he shifted, Jiggs rubbed his back.  His face was sticky with dried sweat, and—were those _tear tracks_ traced along his cheeks?  He shouldn’t be in turmoil anymore—Miiverse was shut down!  Unless…

            The three bosses shoved that thought away.  Luigi looked relaxed now, murmuring words and phrases in Italian.  His hat was still on, though knocked to the edge of his head.  Jiggs continued to watch over him, even as the early morning sun hit the Training Room’s floor.

            That warmth stirred Luigi awake.

            “Mmmm,” he uttered, reaching up and rubbing his eyes.  He ran a hand through his tousled hair and pushed his hat back into its proper place.

            “Jigglypuff,” greeted Jiggs.

            “Hey, Jiggs,” Luigi muttered sleepily.  “Thank you for the lullaby.”

            “No problem,” Jiggs squeaked out.

            It was then that Luigi noticed the trio.  “How did you find me?”

            “Instinct,” MC replied.  “You okay, buddy?”

            “Peachy.  Why?”

            The bosses exchanged a look, unwilling to voice their suspicions.

            “Finding out that someone was poking around on your Miiverse profile and interrogating your friends like criminals can rob you of sleep,” Luigi said, casually.  “So.  Miiverse is shut down.  That’s a relief.”

            “Just temporarily,” said Master.

            “Oh, and when you see Kyle, tell him that I’m willing to let this slide just this once,” replied Luigi, “but if I find that he wasn’t sincere in his apology…”

            “Will do, L,” MC said quickly.

            “Let’s get a jump on the day, shall we?” asked Crazy.

            “Okeydokey,” smiled Luigi.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            After breakfast, it all began again.  Master summoning the Melee top-tiers and giving them the same treatment as the 64 top tiers.  The reaction the dramatic unveiling of the tier list was also the same.  Once Fox and Pikachu fought their first matches, they were called to join the “shindig”.  Jiggs and Peach, Melee’s A tier fighters, cited their close relations to Luigi to plead their innocence.  Pikachu was given special treatment, given the whole Side-B affair, which the electric mouse insisted had boiled down.  Sheik, a close follower of the warrior’s code, had remained humble despite being S tier.  Fox had to go through the “20XX” business all over again—every waveshine, every “blip”, “To-yah”, “Fiyahh”, “Come on” and “Mission complete” and every “No items, Fox only, Final Destination” joke.  Adamantly, Fox claimed that he eventually sobered up, and Luigi had given their friendship a second chance.  The brash Falco confessed to some acts of cockiness, but was quick to add that they were all of a playful and teasing nature and not intended to bully or harass the man in green.  Last night’s flashback prompted Master to bring Falcon back in.  Yet Falcon was less cocky in Melee, given his drop to B tier.  Master elected to wait for another time to bring up the scuffle he’d witnessed in 1999.

            The gathering concluded with the “lineup” and “photo op”, and then, Master dealt with the Brawl top-tiers.

            “ _Dios mio!_ ” Meta-Knight had exclaimed when the document materialized before everyone, setting off a spectacular ruckus.

            The Brawl top-tiers had their counter-arguments ready.

            “I am a valiant, honorable knight,” Meta said firmly.  “Although I was proud to be ranked so high, I would never dream of boasting to anyone.”

            Olimar and Diddy were chagrined that they would be suspected of such a heinous crime and thrust Brawl photos at Master, detailing their pleasant relationships with Luigi.

            After some additional questioning, this part of Master’s investigation was over.  Following the “lineup” scenario, he thanked everyone for their time and released them to attend to their next matches.

            Finally, Master summoned Kyle.

            “I thought you’d like to know that Crazy, Master Core, the Mario Bros and I have decided to give you another opportunity,” he told the Mii.  “Let it not be in vain.”

            “Thank you,” Kyle said humbly.

            Master believed that the Mii Swordfighter genuinely wanted to turn his life around after this experience.

            How very wrong he was…

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Luigi reclined on his bed, his fingers dancing over the keyboard of his trusty laptop.  Many times, he’d wiped it down with a dry handkerchief—yet he could never blot out the smell of the intruder who’d dared to touch it.  He’d instantly recognized the smell as Master Core’s.  What right did he have to nose around on his computer anytime it suited him?  There was a reason he wrote some of his posts in his mother tongue.  If he wanted them to know, then he would’ve told them himself.  Sitting here, surfing the net, writing a story on Word and doing anything to distract himself from previous events, as well as disturbing whispers of burnings and desecrations of Daisy plushies and harassment of her subjects, Luigi felt violated.  One of his sanctuaries had been quietly disturbed.  Who was to say that they wouldn’t sneak around in here again?

            Slowly, Luigi brought up his hand to one of his front pockets, patting a familiar piece of paper resting within.  No matter what they did, he’d always stay one step ahead.  His diary was nicely tucked away in an undisclosed location, known only to him and Mario.  If it had been Mario poking around in here, he would’ve understood; he would’ve been more annoyed than anything.  But those three were taking it way too far.  If his room needed to be periodically tidied, that was fine.  But they ought to keep their hands to themselves!

            Miiverse was off limits, but at least he still had Facebook, Twitter and other non-Nintendo social networking sites.  For the time being, those sites were relatively clean.  He’d checked as best as he could, and now he was chatting online with friends, relatives and Smashers alike.

            All of that, however, was about to change.

            Luigi’s next match was twenty minutes away.  As he was about to log off to prepare, a new post caught his eye.

            It was a photo of Luigi, Pittoo, Lucina, Reyn, Ashley and the rest of their friends, having a ball at Chuck E. Cheese’s.  But the attention-grabber was the caption written above it.

            “Can you guess what’s wrong with this picture?  Hint: Look for the cap with the ‘L’ on it.”

            Did he dare discover the identity of the poster?

            Slowly, Luigi looked, and…

            Oh, no.

            _No_.

            Not the dark angel who supposedly repented of his indifferent attitude and invited him to hang out with him at his favorite place.  Not Pittoo.

            Okay, maybe he was just having a bad day.  A few matches would cool him off.  Luigi sure hoped so.

            Immediately, Luigi closed the Internet browser, turned off his computer, and headed to his next match without looking back.

            Oh, speak of the devil…

            “Why, L—you certainly look pretty hot,” Pittoo said innocently as the duo confronted one another at Palutena’s Temple.

            A smile tugged at Luigi’s mouth.  “Nice photo you posted on Facebook just now,” he said, wryly.

            “I know, right?  You were really partying hard.”

            Luigi’s smile widened.  Pittoo might be edgy sometimes, but he knew how to have a night on the town.  It was difficult to stay mad at him—usually.

            _Just once_ , he told himself.  _I’ll let him off the hook just this once_.

            “GO!” bellowed Xander, and then there was nothing but the fighter in front of him.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            “Bang-bang!”

            Luigi did his trademark finger-guns for the crowd, and they ate it all up.  Pittoo had a sulky expression on his face as he applauded.  When was he going to learn that spamming his electroshock thingies wasn’t the path to victory?

            No matter.  During that intense bout, Luigi had let everything go.  Pittoo’s little Facebook hissy-fit hardly perplexed him now.  But he had to give the dark angel a fair warning, yes?  He studied Pittoo’s face for signs that the warning had gotten through, but his expression was unreadable.  Perhaps if he quit pouting over his loss…

            Luigi went over and slapped the dark angel on the back.  “That was some fight,” he said warmly.  “You okay?”

            “I’ll live,” said Pittoo.  “I’ll probably poop blood tonight, though.”

            After a beat, Luigi questioned, “Why did you post something like that?”

            Pittoo sighed.  “I dunno,” he murmured.  “Maybe I was in one of my edgy moods.  But it will never happen again.”

            “Okeydokey.  I’m going to hold you to that,” Luigi said brightly.

            The two Smashers smiled, shook hands and went their separate ways. 

            _Gods, don’t let him ever find out,_ Pittoo thought as he hit the showers.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

_“We interrupt this program to bring you an important bulletin.  The shutdown of Miiverse apparently hasn’t stopped the outbreak of bullies.  Instead, they have taken their harassment to the extreme.  Now, there are confirmed reports of bonfires being made out of Daisy and Luigi plushies, as well as Daisy and Luigi merchandise.  And most recently, Smash News came across this startling sight—the Princess of Sarasaland being burned in effigy from a tree in the park.  Daisy’s subjects have told us that they are being harassed in broad daylight by the bullies.  Here’s Roland Prentice with more details.”_

_“Thank you, Rebecca.  It started off as a rumor, but now there is no denying that the cyberbullies are unapologetic over their actions.  Barred from Miiverse, they have turned to more aggressive methods.  Several of Sarasaland’s hard-working populace have reportedly been victims of gaslighting by the perpetrators.  And we have come across the aftermath of numerous bonfires, containing the ashes of what were once plushies of Daisy and Luigi.  These are just some of the acts of defiance Smash News has confirmed._

_“Princess Daisy was a contender for the Smash Fighter Ballot late last year.  Dozens of fans and loved ones flocked to support her, but there were also those who didn’t want her in Smash—and they quite rudely made that fact known all over Miiverse.  However, the backlash could be ignored until last December, when Bayonetta was announced the winner.  Once word got out that Daisy lost, the floodgates opened to cheers and jeers aplenty from the anti-Daisy camp._

_“And she isn’t the only one.  Sources tell us that Daisy’s long-time boyfriend, Luigi Mario, has been targeted longer than her, beginning when Miiverse was founded in the late 2000s.  This quelled somewhat following the Year of Luigi and his outstanding performance in the 2014 Mario Kart tournament, but the inferno started right back up as soon as his Princess lost her bid to become a Smasher._

_“Two days ago, the head of the Smash tournaments, Master Hand, responded to the couple’s bashing by temporarily shutting down Miiverse.  Unfortunately, that has made the bashers more persistent than ever.  Around me, there are some of Daisy’s best subjects, now afraid to go about their daily lives.  Daisy’s castle has seen an increase in guards and surveillance equipment.  Everyone is advised to leave their homes with extreme caution, and awards have been promised to those catching a perpetrator in the act._

_“What’s that, Lester?  Oh.  Okay.  Yes, I have just received word that a gathering of Luigi’s fans faced a savage attack at the hands of the bullies, and medical responders are on the scene.  At this point, all victims are expected to be okay.  We will bring you more developments as they come.  Live in Sarasaland, this is Roland Prentice for Smash News.”_

_“Thanks for that, Roland.  We will surely keep an eye on what is happening to Luigi’s supporters as well as Daisy’s.  I’ll see you back here at 10 o’ clock tonight.  Until then, this is Rebecca Sterling signing off, and that’s the way it is.”_

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            “ _Princesa_!  I just heard everything on the news!  _Mio Dio_ , are you alright?”

            “L, relax.  I can take care of myself,” Daisy said soothingly over the phone.

            “So the plushie burnings and effigies—all of that is true?” Luigi asked in a gasping voice.

            “I’m afraid so,” sighed Daisy.  “There have even been threats to kidnap me—and worse.”

            “Death threats?”

            “No.  Just threats to break into the castle and—have some— _fun_ —with me.”

            “I promise you, Daisy, if anyone touches you…”

            Daisy chuckled.  “I assure you, it won’t get that bad.  I’ll beat you to it.  How’s everything in Smash?”

            “MH is monitoring everybody now, and he has a theory.  A theory that my situation started with the first tier list.”

            “Sounds plausible,” said Daisy.  “Will you be okay?”

            “Yeah.  I’ve been through worse than this.  And you?”

            “Don’t worry about me.  I’m stronger than you realize.” Daisy drew in a breath.

            “I can’t help but wonder—where will they strike next?”

            “Me, too,” said Daisy, “but we can’t let them win.”

            “I love you, Daisy.”

            “I love you, too, L.”

            As soon as Luigi hung up, someone knocked on his door.  “Yes?”

            “It’s Samus and Douglas!”

            “Come on in.”

            The two bounty hunters rushed into the room, smelling of smoke.

            “You look awful,” said Luigi.  “What have you been up to?”

            “L,” began Samus, excitement building in her voice.  “We know the people starting those bonfires, burning those effigies and doing that other mess and where you can find them.”

            “FALCON—EXPOSE!” Falcon crowed triumphantly as he held out a dossier of photos.  “They formed themselves into some sort of club that has meeting places all over Nintendo-verse and the real world.  Sammy and I have been working undercover—which explains our smoky, sooty clothing.”

            “Excellent work, you two,” Luigi praised with a smile.  “You are the best bounty hunters Nintendo has ever known.  Certainly, you make a great team—maybe more.”

            Samus gaped.  “Hey—we’re not—I mean, we’re not a—no, we’re not…”

            “Yeah, we’re just working together,” Douglas said unconvincingly.

            “Well, you two are cute together,” said Luigi, “as well as Kirby and Pikachu.  But I digress.  What else do you have for me?”

            “You may want to sit down for this one,” warned Samus.

            And with that, the two began to whisper into Luigi’s ear—

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            _Poor, poor Luigi.  Isn’t it a shame that he’s not joining us today?_ asked Mewtwo.

            “Tell me about it,” chuckled Kyle.

            “Did you hear about what he and his Princess are going through now?” queried Pittoo.  “Those poor, unfortunate souls.”

            The three of them sat in a private area inside Chuck E. Cheese’s, sharing pizza.

            “Those two are so full of it,” grumbled Kyle.  “I’ll just bet it’s one of their friends who blew the whistle on us.  I almost got kicked out because of them.”

            _Thanks to those fools, I’m not allowed on the battlefield for a month,_ said Mewtwo.  _Lucario, that tattletale—just wait till I get my hands on him!_

            “So what if they’ve got people hating and trolling on them?” snickered Pittoo.  “Their feelings don’t matter—only our enjoyment.”

            “Yeah,” added Kyle.  “I’ve been going after the Mario Bros. and their Princesses simply because it pleases me.  With MH distracted by the tier list, we’ll be back in action.  Nothing will stand in our way.”

            _For our first order of business,_ said Mewtwo, _let’s show that string bean what happens when he directly or indirectly gets us in trouble._

            Kyle smiled evilly.  “Agreed.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            _“Moments after a reported attack on some of Luigi’s fans by an anti-Daisy contingent, a second attack has occurred at the popular hangout spot, Brewster’s Café.  Witnesses tell us that a mob of perpetrators burst into the restaurant, where the Luigi fans were celebrating a birthday, and attacked them with clubs, chains and other weapons.  Police were summoned to Brewster’s, and the attackers are currently being processed at the jail.  Janice Alberts has more.”_

_“Rebecca, just when we thought things couldn’t get any worse, a birthday party has been cruelly intruded upon by the ex-cyberbullies.  Moments ago, Brewster’s Café, also one of Luigi’s go-to relaxation areas, was a scene of bedlam as supporters of the man in green fought for their lives.  The reason for the attack—to demoralize a man simply supporting his Princess.  One of the bystanders is here with me now.  Ma’am, what can you tell us about the incident?”_

_“Well, through the door—through the front door, there was just an explosion of unruly people charging in there.  I gathered a few patrons, mainly kids, and ran into the back to keep out of harm’s way and call the police.  All we could hear was just—screaming and crunching and smashing and swearing.  And through it all, I could hear those bullies laughing about what they were doing.  I’ll never forget the glee and joy in their eyes as long as I live.  It was quite frankly one of the most sickening experiences I’ve had in my life.”_

_“Thank you for that, ma’am.  But that’s not all.  The bullies have turned to more sneaky means to show us all that they mean business.  Several of them have posed as Luigi and Daisy supporters to win trust, passing information on to their more sinister bosses.  A few are even giving these haters financial support.  There is postulation that these acts aren’t scattered—they are the doings of some sort of club.  Which begs the question—could they have infiltrated Daisy’s court?  For Smash News, I’m Janice Alberts.”_

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            It was late at night, yet nobody could sleep.  Master Hand, Crazy Hand and Master Core watched the news with chagrin.  The situation was slowly getting out of control.  If these people were brazen enough to publicly attack people, then what else were they capable of?

            Evan and Mandy held each other in their arms.  They, along with Luigi, were going to take serious action against these people, whether the three bosses liked it or not.  It was inevitable.  After a while, they turned off the TV and slipped off to the Training Room to spar.

            Mario, Peach, Yoshi, DK, Diddy and their friends considered knocking on Luigi’s door to check if he was okay.  But they knew it was fruitless.  They were just as steamed as him.  Sooner or later, street justice would be served.

            As for Luigi himself—

            Well—

            He sat in bed, propped up by pillows, barely paying attention to the TV.  The light from the television cast him in an eerie glow.  And over the news anchor droning on, there was the unmistakable sound of him scribbling—and scribbling—and scribbling—

 


	16. Interlude: Warm Welcome

**_Luigi’s POV_ **

**It’s finally the day.  My alarm goes off shortly before sunrise.  After only one ring, I lift my head from my pillow and silence it.  Against the rest of my body’s orders, I make no move to allow myself some extra forty winks.  Throwing the covers aside, I slide out of the bed, splash some cold water on my face, pull on some clothes and then join Little Mac in jogging after Doc, who is pedaling a few feet ahead of us on a mysteriously acquired bicycle.**

**The session of moderately vigorous exercise serves as a tonic.  After both of us “underdogs” finish our jog, I return to my room and jump into the shower.  Over the spray of water, I can hear Evan moving about, but I pay him no mind.  For five minutes, I give in to the comfort of my heavenly-scented body wash, the creamy lather and the rejuvenating rinse.**

**Stepping out of the shower, I dry off, wrap the towel about my waist and head to the closet.  From it, I select a white, button-down shirt, black slacks, green tie and a green blazer.  Before dressing, though, I treat myself to a nice shave and tend to my hair, styling it in my favorite way.  I fluff my bangs; they’re starting to get too long.  Finally, I pull on my briefs, followed by the rest of my clothes.  I look like I’m headed to a walk down the red carpet.  A touch of cologne, and I’m out the door.**

**In the cafeteria, I join Evan, Mandy, Mario, Peach and the rest of my friends for breakfast.  They are all dressed to the nines.  Mario’s suit is similar to mine, save for the red jacket and tie.  Peach is clad in a pink, form-fitting dress.  Mandy wears a one-shoulder dress, and Evan is in a retro-style tuxedo.  I look around me—everyone is dressed formally—even the Wii Fit Trainers and the Duck Hunt Duo.  Lucina, Roy, Robin, Reflet and Chrom look especially anticipated, while the angel twins look ready to be sick, Palutena attempting to reassure them.**

**After breakfast is over, we file into the auditorium and take our seats.  Chatter springs up immediately.  Peach, Mario and I go over final preparations for the bash we’re planning to throw.  We want to make these newcomers feel at home.**

**I’m not angry at Bayonetta.  There’s no reason to—she didn’t do anything to me.  You want to know who I’m angry at—Nintendo, for kicking Daisy to the curb.  And the ones who spend their days harassing her, burning effigies of her, torching plushies of her and pushing around her subjects and fans just because it pleases them.  But right now, I’m not thinking about them.  I’m thinking about the important occasion ahead of us—welcoming the final additions to our Smash roster.**

**We settle down as Master Hand materializes before us.  “Good morning, Smashers,” he says.**

**“Good morning,” we reply.**

**“Today is arguably one of the greatest days this tournament has seen,” says Master.  “It is a day we’ve worked our butts off preparing for.  For today, we welcome the last of our newcomers to the world of Smash!”**

**We applaud.**

**“First off, from the Fire Emblem universe, let’s give a warm Smash welcome to—Corrin and Corrine!”**

**A door opens, and a man and a woman, clad in silver and blue, step through.  Both have blonde-ish, almost slivery hair, similar to the Robin twins.  When the reach Master Hand, our applause grows louder, whereupon the duo strikes a pose.**

**“My path is clear!” shouts Corrin.**

**“Let’s do this!” adds Corrine.**

**The remaining Fire Emblem reps are going gaga.  Corrin and Corrine shake Master Hand’s index finger and head over to join them.  The group devolves into a pile of hugs, squeals and “how’ve you beens”.  I’m sure Lucy and Roy will find a way to explain Marth’s and Ike’s absences.**

**Eventually, things calm down.**

**“And finally,” announces Master.  “Let’s hear it for our Smash Ballot winner, Bayonetta!”**

**A woman with short, black hair, glasses, a skintight outfit and what appear to be wings emerges through the door, two pistols in hand.  She smiles at us and gracefully poses.**

**“Let’s dance, boys!” she proclaims.**

**We cheer like crazy.**

**I’m aware of Pittoo cowering behind me, while Pit’s beside Palutena, attempting to put on a brave face.  Funny, I half-expect it to be the other way around.**

**“It’ll be alright,” I assure him.  “Just don’t bother her, and she won’t bother you.”**

**“Uh—thanks, L,” he whispers.**

**For the life of me, I can’t figure this angel out.  Does he like me, or does he hate me?  According to him, he’s indifferent to my situation.  So what is he doing, cringing behind me over some angel-hunter?**

**“Corrin, Corrine, Bayo—welcome to Smash,” says Master Hand.**

**“Thanks,” chirp the dragon twins.**

**“I’m honored,” says Bayonetta.**

**Quickly, Master gets things situated for a meet-and-greet with the newcomers.  The trio are all smiles as they sign autographs, answer questions and pose for photos.  I linger at the back, in no hurry, until Lucy waves me over.**

**“Corrin and Corrine want to talk to you,” she says excitedly.**

**So, I head on over to the dragon twins’ table, where Corrin and Corrine each offer a hand for me to shake.**

**“You must be Luigi, the formidable man in green,” says Corrine.**

**“Indeed, I am,” I reply.**

**“It’s very nice to meet you,” says Corrin.  “My sis and I highly anticipate a meeting on the battlefield with you.”**

**I blush.  “Th-thanks,” I say.  “Usually, people say that about Mario.”**

**“Don’t let what others say define you,” advises Corrin.  “You’re amazing and special in your own right.  Which actually reminds me—I heard about what Marth did to you.  I’m so sorry.”**

**I dismiss it.  “It’s already been taken care of,” I say quietly.  “And I admit, the means were questionable, but…”**

**“Let’s not tarnish our first meeting with such talk,” Corrine breaks in.  “Marth had this—complex—which made our relationship with him a bit complicated.  Most of Altea say he got what he deserved.”**

**I smile in relief.**

**“If we give you an autograph, then would you give us one?” asks Corrin.**

**“Sure!”**

**Once autographs are exchanged, I sidle on over to meet Bayo.**

**“I know all about you,” she purrs.  “You’re the one who hunts ghosts despite your fear of them.  I like that.”**

**“I guess we’re not that different, are we?” I ask wryly.**

**“Nope,” says Bayonetta.  “So, tell me a bit about the angels here.”**

**“Pit’s my best friend,” I tell her.  “So is Palutena.  For my sake, try not to hurt them.”**

**“And the dark one?”**

**I smirk.  “Do whatever you want with him,” I tell her.  “In fact, I know some ways in which you can have fun with him.”**

**After I whisper my advice into her ear, she grins broadly.  “Thanks, L,” she says.  “I’ll remember you.”**

**“Ditto,” I answer.  It’s very clear—she’s not my enemy.  We’re going to get along quite well.**

**“Hey,” I say to her.  “We’re having a little reception for you and the dragon twins.  And Peach baked you a devil’s food cake.”**

**She chuckles.  “Very thoughtful of you,” she says heartily.**

**All of the Smashers have had their questions answered.  Peach leads everyone to the main hall, where the informal reception is underway.  The devil’s food cake, I’ll have you know, is a big hit.  Same as with the rest of the treats.  My keen eyes spot Pit glancing askance at Corrin, and Roy casting furtive looks toward Meta Knight.  The music gets going, and Pit shyly offers Corrin to dance, which he accepts.  As for Roy—maybe I’ll have to give him—or Meta—a little nudge.**

**I spend the reception hanging out with the three new arrivals, learning their secrets and telling them mine.  They don’t have to say anything to tell me that they know what I’ve been going through.  One thing’s for sure, I’ve gained three powerful allies today!**

**Perhaps having Bayo here is a blessing in disguise…**


	17. Green Bird with Broken Wings

            “ _It has just been reported that Princess Daisy’s court was the scene of a despicable, public display by the bashers and bullies. According to her subjects, in the middle of a political meeting, the perpetrators, who were in attendance under false identities, began stripping off their clothes, jumping on tables and making lewd comments to the Flower Princess. Royal bodyguards were able to quickly diffuse the situation and take the perpetrators into custody. As for Daisy, she is a little shaken, but otherwise unharmed. The meeting continued as scheduled without further interruption.”_

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            “Now, don’t you feel better?” asked Bayonetta.

            “I do,” smiled Luigi. “Thanks for the spar. I can’t wait to fight you for real.”

            “Oh, come now, L. We both know why that is so.” Bayo raised an eyebrow as she spoke.

            “I don’t hold anything against you, Bayo. Honestly,” Luigi said quietly. “It’s just that they spurned the woman I love. Give it time, and you’ll really start to grow on me.”

            “I certainly hope so,” said Bayo. “Now, where can I find your friend Dark Pit? From what you’ve told me, he’s a brat who needs to be put in his place.”

            Luigi smiled broadly. “Come with us to Chuck E. Cheese’s tonight,” he proposed. “That’s his favorite place to go.”

            “Hmm. Mine, too,” winked Bayo. “Tell MH that I’ll be up in a tick, yes? I need to go freshen up.”

            “Okay,” said Luigi before the two parted ways.

            As the man in green stepped into his room to unwind before his next battle, he automatically sensed that something awful had taken place, something that he should know about. He also sensed that he wasn’t alone.

            _Shame that you can’t always protect the ones you love, L._

            Luigi whirled. He knew that voice. And sure enough, the one who had spoken was staring at him down the length of his nose, sporting a scornful, disdainful expression.

            “Mewtwo!” he half-gasped, half-spat.

            _Good to see you again, L._

            “You’re supposed to be suspended!” shouted Luigi.

            _It was lifted early_ , Mewtwo triumphantly announced. _Good behavior_.

            “Good behavior? After what you said to me?!”

            _I was telling the truth, wasn’t I? You were in this thing from the get-go; surely you could’ve put up a better fight._

            “What are you doing here?” Luigi demanded. “And what are you talking about; me not always protected the ones I love?”

            _It seems that the Daisy bashers have taken their grievances to the streets. It’s all over the news. Plushie burnings, effigies, harassing, attacks, and now a disturbance at court._

            “A—a disturbance at court?” exclaimed Luigi. “What happened? What did they do to her?”

            _Truly, a sight to remember. Some attendees of a political meeting started acting funny. Jumping onto tables, stripping completely naked and—making blatant advances toward the Flower Princess herself._

            Luigi was close to breathless. “No. You’re bluffing. They wouldn’t have the guts…!”

            _Oh, yes they would._

            “You think this is entertaining, don’t you?” Luigi said, sharply.

            _You’ve no idea. And let me in on a little secret—I’ve known about this longer than you or anyone else. Heck, I was thinking about it while creaming you and Ryu. The affair on Miiverse was just tapping the surface of my knowledge._

            “So, when you were accusing me of pouting over Daisy, which I wasn’t, you knew about this?” Luigi demanded of the Pokémon. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve told Master Hand, and…”

            Mewtwo laughed. _Well, Master finding out would’ve spoiled things, wouldn’t it?_

            In that sentence, Luigi connected the dots. “Wait a minute. _You’re_ one of them, aren’t you?”

            Mewtwo said nothing, continuing to stare at the plumber with that singular smirk on his lips.

            “Aren’t you?!”

            _Gee, I was wondering when you were going to figure that out_ , Mewtwo chuckled. _Yes, I am among those who didn’t want Daisy in Smash. Personally, I didn’t want any one of those candidates to win; we already had enough fools crowding our roster. My friends and I wrote letters to Sakurai and Co. asking them to make sure Daisy didn’t win the Ballot. We threw our support to the budding anti-Daisy group. Even before that silly thing closed, we had our backlash ready. Copies upon copies of_ Super Mario Land _and every single sports game she’s been in, defiled and desecrated in the most—imaginative ways possible. The trolling on Miiverse? Some of that came from me. I mean, how can she fight the best and the bravest if she can’t even fight an alien?_

            Luigi shook his head. “I thought we were friends,” he stated.

            Mewtwo was unfazed. _Guess we’re not_.

            “Get out!” exploded the man in green. “Get out of my room! Those Hands will have your head, you hear me?!”

            He gasped when Mewtwo suddenly put him into a telekinetic hold. _No, they’re not_ , he vowed, _because you’re not going to utter a word to them about it_.

            “Or what?” challenged Luigi.

            _You got me and another friend in trouble_ , the Psychic Pokémon said menacingly. _Our little plan was going quite well until you came along with your big mouth. We do not take kindly to such a thing, as you’re about to find out._

            Mewtwo’s anger now reached its peak, and he began to use his telekinesis to mercilessly beat the poor green-clad fellow.

            “Mewtwo, please, stop! This isn’t like you! For God’s sake, knock it off!” yelled Luigi, which only worsened the telekinetic attacks.

            Eventually, Mewtwo grew tired of hearing Luigi speak, so he used Confusion and Disable to silence his cries and objections. He was immobilized and at his mercy, and that was when the tears started. Huge tears he hadn’t cried in what seemed like ages, because this was supposed to have stopped. The Psychic realized that he was antagonizing the very man he’d been chummy with nearly fifteen years ago, the man who struck up conversations with him over coffee, the man who received comfort from him during one of his mansion-related nightmares. Realizing this only made him crave more. So, he set upon him as viciously and as violently as he could. _What do you think of me now?_ he asked coldly as each telekinetic blow he landed made the room tremble.

            Looking down on the plumber, Mewtwo saw that something precious and recently repaired had once again been destroyed inside of him. Dulled blue eyes stared straight at him, and the sight of them really set him off. Those others were right—this was so much fun! He paused for a moment to survey what he’d done so far, dispassionately drinking in the damage to Luigi’s tear-stained face.

            _Not so tough now, are you?_ Mewtwo sneered. _You’re more pitiful than I imagined._

            And that was when he commenced to hit Luigi with blasts of electricity and dark matter, lash out at him with his tail and throttle him. He didn’t use Disable this time because he _wanted_ to hear the screaming. Finally, he got bored of this, dropped Luigi to the floor, fetched a first-aid kit and tended to the most severe of his wounds.

            _Thank you, L. That was the best release I’ve had since Melee._

            Mewtwo shoved Luigi out the door and watched, arms crossed, as the man in green set off down the hallway, the skip in his step gone.

            And he smiled.

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            “God, he looks awful,” Master gasped to Crazy as they observed Luigi taking his place on the battle stage. “I don’t think he should fight like this.”

            “Maybe we should cancel it,” suggested Crazy. “If he’s already hurt…”

            Indeed, Luigi looked as if he’d gone ten rounds with a professional boxer. Aside from those splatters mottling him, one eye was nearly swollen shut, and he sported quite a few burns. But what alerted the Hands of something afoot were his eyes. The vivacious luster usually radiating from them had fizzled out. Master felt a sick feeling build inside of him as he drank in the all-too-familiar injuries and the dimmed, haunted eyes. He recalled tournaments past when he spotted Luigi looking like that—and did nothing. But he would not make that mistake again.

            “Do you think…?” ventured Crazy.

            “I can’t bear to say what I think,” whispered Master.

            “Those Mr. Saturns are driving me batty! I…” Master Core barged into his son’s office, his rant all but forgotten as he zeroed in on Luigi’s condition. “Oh, my God. What in Subspace happened?”

            Master and Crazy fumbled with their words.

            “You know what? Don’t bother answering that.   Cancel his remaining matches, and…”

            He was cut off once again when the three of them observed something coming over the man in green. His eyes, so full of pain, undergoing a remarkable transformation. Slowly, the pained, numb look receded, and the tiniest sparkle took its place. That sparkle became an ember. An ember which was fueled when Luigi raised his eyes to his opponent, Reflet. An ember of passion, an ember of endurance. An ember of defiance.

            That ember, that small, single, glowing ember, took on a life of its own, illuminating the irises and pupils of Luigi’s eyes. Newfound strength began to rage inside him, spreading from his eyes to his face, from his face to his heart, from his heart to his limbs and to his bloodstream. Even his cap became filled with this strength. It eclipsed the scores of wounds he had sustained, and aside from the swelling here and there, it was as if it had never happened. Chin steady and held high, shoulders thrust back, it was as if he’d shed an old skin, or just died and was reborn. He set his jaw, searching the face of the stunned tactician.

            “Er—hold that thought,” said MC.

            “Wow,” gasped Master.

            “I want ice cream!” Crazy said suddenly.

            “You’re not helping,” eyerolled Master.

            Back on the battlefield, as Xander prepared to count them down, Reflet heard Luigi whisper determinedly to himself, “ _Essi non stanno andando a vincere questa volta._ ”

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            First row, middle seat, was Mario’s sacred spot when Luigi was fighting someone. It was where he had an unobstructed view of his brother—and his brother had an unobstructed view of him. The elder sibling’s voice could easily be carried to the younger’s ears, and identical pairs of eyes could meet, a store of energy and courage. And it was here that Mario witnessed the trauma on his brother’s visage give way to something he couldn’t name.

            The channel of brotherly love allowed Mario to feel this too. It was a peculiar, tingly feeling, like a hymn being sung deep in his brain. One look at Luigi when he first arrived, and there was no question what had happened. It was easy to narrow down the suspects, too. Reflet had looked concerned too. Yet before either of them could voice their concerns, something _clicked_ inside the green-clad plumber. This was definitely not like those other times. He’d grown stronger since then. Something swelled inside of Mario as his baby bro raised his head and gazed at his opponent. He was close enough to hear Luigi’s whispered vow, and he nodded, wiping away a tear. “Yes,” he smiled. “ _Non mollare mai_.”

            “3...2...1...GO!”

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            Front row, first seat, was where Pikachu sat. Despite the side-B business stemming from Melee, Pikachu was more of a friend to Luigi than met the eye. He’d certainly never wish any ill upon him, despite his earlier belief that the plumber copy-and-pasted his move and called it a different name. The electric mouse nearly fainted when he saw Luigi looking like a wreck. He was tempted to dash onto the stage, jump into his arms and make everything okay. That lasted until he straightened and gave Reflet this—look—which signified that he was still going to give their battle his all despite what happened to him. His lips moved, but Pikachu was too far away to hear what he was saying. His peripherals caught Mario tearing up, though. What was that all about?

            Suddenly, Pikachu’s thoughts drifted to the Smash Ballot. He really, really wanted Pichu, his cute, little partner-in-crime, to win. Come to think of it, he was just as upset as Luigi. Surely, Pichu would’ve gotten along fine here. Fully tying up loose ends with Luigi and forming a strong alliance with him was only the beginning. Pikachu had also put Raichu’s name up for consideration. A team of Pichu, Pikachu and Raichu would’ve been a force to be reckoned with. But life had its ups and downs, and Bayonetta had left a favorable first impression on everyone. If only the haters and the trolls would back off already.

            Xander’s voice snapped the electric mouse back to the present. He gave a chirpy, encouraging “Pika!” as Luigi rushed headlong into battle.

            Sensing a presence, he looked over to see Kirby float over to the chair next to him and make himself comfortable, armed with his usual goodies. His mouth curved in a small smile. “Poyo,” he greeted.

            “Pika,” nodded Pikachu.

            Kirby withdrew a piece of cake wrapped in Saran Wrap and offered it to Pikachu. “Poyo, poyo?”

            “Pi!” said Pikachu, accepting the offer. He unwrapped the pastry and took a bite. “Pika.”

            “Poy,” replied Kirby.

            Pikachu jerked his head toward Luigi and Reflet. “Pi, pi, pika,” he said, referring to the fact that Luigi was his normal, dangerous self despite the obvious injuries he’d sustained earlier.

            Kirby responded with a cheery “Poyo!” He knew that Luigi was one of the most resilient Smashers he’d ever known. Nothing could hold him down anymore.

            “Pika, pika, pika, pi, pika, pi, pi,” mused Pikachu, reflecting over the various enemies Luigi had vanquished in the past.

            “Poyo, poyo, po-poyo, poyoyo, poyo, poyo,” Kirby told him, referring to Luigi’s “dreamy” adventure which had won him Koopa’s grudging respect.

            “Pika?” queried Pikachu, wondering if he really did take a shot at Luigi in the early days without really meaning to.

            “Poyo, poy, poyo, poyo, po-poyo poyo,” Kirby reassured him, knowing that whatever happened in the first two tournaments, especially Melee, was ancient history.

            “Poyo, poyo, poyo,” he added, pointing out the chemistry Luigi and Pikachu shared when they were teamed together and the positive rapport they forged in 1999 which managed to survive the tension from Melee.

            Pikachu was visibly relieved. “Pika,” he sighed happily as Relfet lost one of his stocks.

            Kirby then took the rest of his sweets and balanced them on the armrest between him and Pikachu, indicating that the mouse was free to help himself.

            “Pika,” Pikachu thanked the puffball.

            “Poyo, poy?” Kirby offered Pikachu a ride on his Warp Star.

            Pikachu accepted with a smile and a happy “Pika!”

            The two top tiers of Smash 64 sat comfortably together, sharing sweets and watching the plumber and the tactician duke it out.

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            “You were incredible!” gushed Reflet at the conclusion of the match. “What’s your secret?”

            “Just practicing,” Luigi humbly replied. “Listen, I need to talk to MH. See you round.”

            “Good fight,” smiled Reflet.

            Luigi marched purposefully to Master’s office and knocked on the door.

            “Enter!”

            Luigi stepped inside and sat before the Hand at his desk.

            “I was just about to fetch you for a talk,” said Master.

            “So—you know?” asked Luigi.

            “Yeah. Who was it?”

            Luigi leaned in close. “Ask Mewtwo. He’d be happy to confess to you how he enjoyed every minute of it.”

            “My God— _he_ did this? After…?”

            “Yes. And this is what I was afraid of, Master Hand. You falling for the charade they put on just to weasel their way back into your good graces. Mewtwo acted repentant just so you could lift that suspension, and now look what happened.”

            “I guess you had good cause to be wary, L. Crazy, Dad and I will…”

            “…have a good talk with Mewtwo later today? I knew you were going to say that,” said Luigi. “Did you sense something off with him? Because you can testify to the bond we shared in Melee.”

            “I don’t know what’s up with him, but I will not stand for his behavior,” Master told him. “Will you be okay?”

            “Yes. I’m not that scared, weak victim anymore.”

            “Just make sure to see Dr. Mario sometime this week, yes?”

            “Okeydokey.”

            With a final smile, Luigi turned and left. And in Master’s opinion, there was something disquieting about that smile…

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            “ _Nicely done, Mewtwo_.”

            “ _Woo! You sure did a job on that plumber!_ ”

            “ _Next time, try hitting a little harder. Or maybe throwing him around!_ ”

            “ _Heh, heh. Wait till all of his fans see this._ ”

            “ _Look at him. He’s helpless without his brother._ ”

            “ _I loved how you made him bleed and cry_.”

            “ _Let’s see how much Daisy wants him now!_ ”

            “ _Way to put him in his place, Mewtwo!_ ”

            “ _You should let me have a go at him sometime! The things I plan to do to him…”_

            “ _Just like old times! Amusing then, too!”_

Sitting at his computer, watching the video he’d secretly recorded while the likes accumulated like interest, Mewtwo cackled. His cackling reverberated throughout his room, flew down the hall and eventually made its way to the rest of the Smash mansion, where his video was quickly going viral.

            _Personally, I liked him better when he was a secret character_ , the Psychic Pokémon chortled once he pulled himself together.

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            Mandy bent over the sink, Evan’s palm on the small of her back, as she heaved. It burned her throat and tongue, and some of it dripped from her nose. The faucet was busy washing it all down the drain, yet Mandy had a lot of vileness to expel from her body. Each fleeting thought of the video made her start back up again.

            The way Luigi had pleaded and at one point appealed to his old buddy. The way Mewtwo had used his telekinesis to pin him down and muffle his cries. The way he taunted the poor man as he landed his blows. And the shameless way he’d used Luigi as a telekinetic punching bag, knowing and uncaring of how he was destroying him. He’d only cleaned up the worst injuries to save face, but by uploading the video, he’d spelled his own doom. Master Hand was bound to find out about this. And once that happened…

            Evan rubbed his fiancée’s back as the hurling began to die down. At last, there was nothing left to upchuck, and Mandy stood there, breathing slowly. She splashed cold water on her face and all over her mouth and nose to wash the puke away. The healthy flush returned to her skin, and she eased herself off the sink.

            “Oh, my God,” she gasped. “Oh, my God.”

            “That’s more than I can say,” murmured Evan. “I thought all of this had stopped. It couldn’t get any worse than—those four. They liked beating him up, but at least they were above taping it and putting it on YouTube.”

            “We can’t let L see this,” said Mandy.

            “If he hasn’t already,” said Evan.

            “Okay. Okay. I’m going to get it together now, because he can’t see me like this,” said Mandy. “If he saw it, then I need to be the strong one. We both need to. He needs all the support he can get.”

            “Don’t beat yourself up over that,” counseled Evan. “Trust me, I threw up in my mouth when I saw that. But you’re right. You, me, Mario, Peach—we all have to be there for him.”

            Mandy’s face went dark, and she pounded the countertop with her fist. “I trusted him. He was kind to me on my first day. No doubt, he had this planned in advance, and we fell for it.”

            “That’s their m.o., I suppose,” mused Evan.

            She whipped around and looked at him. “You and me. Training Room. Now,” she said, tersely.

            “Yeah, I feel you,” sighed Evan as he followed her out.

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            “WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS??!!” boomed Master Hand.

            He, Crazy Hand and Master Core were in his office, watching Mewtwo’s video in disbelief.

            “Dude! He can’t be that shameless, can he?” Crazy asked.

            “I guess he can,” huffed MC. “Now that the word’s out, we have to act, and fast. There’s no telling what Luigi will do.”

            “Does he even know?” asked Crazy. “Did he watch it yet?”

            “Chances are, he did,” grumbled MC. “Videos go viral pretty quickly around here.”

            “I have no jurisdiction over YouTube, so I can’t shut _that_ down,” fumed Master. “Is there any way we can stop these people?!”

            “We should’ve kept the suspension on Mewtwo,” groaned Crazy. “Maybe none of this would’ve happened.”

            “Probably would’ve defied us and done it, anyway,” said MC.

            “You know what’s the worst part? The majority like the video!” yelled Master. “Not one flag or report on this thing. What is wrong with people these days?!”

            A bright light flashed on the office’s ceiling.

            “He’s challenging us again,” announced MC. “What do you say? You think we should test out Classic Mode 9.2?”

            “Maybe another time,” sighed Master. “Let’s just help him get this out of his system so he won’t do anything stupid.”

            “I’m game!” sang out Crazy.

            Master, Crazy and MC went to get ready.

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            “ _Hey, Luigi fans! See what has befallen your beloved idol. What do you think of that, you losers? Do you think this weakling still deserves your praise and sympathy? Do us all a favor and go back where you came from!”_

“ _You see this? This is what a man like Luigi is supposed to look like._ ”

            “ _Daisy, I hope you’re watching this, because next time you find yourself in peril, you know who_ not _to call_!”

            And the comments kept coming and coming…

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            “Did you watch that video?” asked MC.

            Luigi said nothing, catching his breath after his exhausting trek through Classic Mode.

            “L, please, let us come in,” entreated Master. “The video _he_ uploaded—did you see it?”

            “Y—y—yes,” Luigi managed to say. Tears sprang to his eyes, which he quickly flicked away.

            “Accept our sincere apology,” said MC. “Mewtwo will regret this. Deeply.”

            “You’re right,” said Luigi. “He will.”

            “But let us handle him,” said Crazy. “We don’t want you to do something stupid. Something _you’ll_ regret.”

            “I let you handle the Miiverse situation,” Luigi stated calmly. “Didn’t work out too well.”

            “But…” Master piped up.

            Luigi silenced him with a look. “Once again, I gave you three a chance. And once again, you blew it. You’ll probably be feeling our tussle well into next week. But that’s the least of your problems.”

            Shaking with rage, Luigi stalked out of the office, slamming the door after him.

            “I think I’m going to be sick,” squeaked out Crazy.

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            “Hey, Lu! May I borrow you for a minute?”

            Luigi turned at the sound of Pittoo’s voice. “Hi, Pittoo,” he said.

            “I’m sorry about what Mewtwo did,” Pittoo said softly, his head bowed. “I wish I could do something.”

            “Don’t worry; I’m fine,” said Luigi. “So, what’s up?”

            “I have a surprise for you.” The dark angel’s voice turned sly as he said these words.

            “What kind of surprise?” Luigi wanted to know.

            “Come to my room, and you’ll find out,” winked Pittoo.

            “Aw, thanks! You just made my day,” smiled Luigi.

            “Anything for a friend,” smirked Pittoo.

            Pittoo and Luigi made their way down the hall to the former’s room. At the door, they paused, and Pittoo fished out his keys.

            “Of course, I had a little help from some friends of my own,” he said. “And we assure you, we wanted to do this for a very long time.”

            He unlocked the door and swung it open. And there, with smug, eager looks on their faces, waited Kyle and Mewtwo!

            “You know what? I’m pretty tired. We’ll do this tomorrow,” Luigi said in a clipped voice as he turned to make his escape.

            Luigi was fast. Pittoo was faster.

            The dark angel snatched Luigi round his waist and hauled him, kicking and struggling, inside the room. “By the way,” he said sweetly. “We’ll take a raincheck on Chuck E. Cheese’s tonight.”

            “Hey! What on Earth are you doing? Put me down!” yelled Luigi.

            Pittoo snickered in response. “Okay, fellas,” he told Mewtwo and Kyle. “Let’s have some fun.”

            He kicked the door shut behind him. The key turned in the lock.

            The thick walls drowned out the plumber’s desperate cries.

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            Night had fallen by the time Dark Pit, Kyle and Mewtwo had their fill. Luigi was on the floor at their feet, tear-filled eyes spewing venom. Covered in more bruises, wounds from Kyle’s and Pittoo’s blades and more burns. Blood stained his clothes, cap, hair and moustache. His throat was raw from fruitlessly screaming. For the finishing touch, they’d dragged him before a mirror so he could watch them “give him something to think about”.

            _Take a close look at yourself, L_ , Mewtwo had intoned. _Look at us pounding you to a pulp. Look at how sad, weak and pitiful you are. You actually thought you could get away with telling on me? You think your Princess will want you after seeing this? You deserve every moment of this, and you know it._

            Luigi searched the room for any recording equipment and found none. Maybe it was too small to be seen from this distance. His fists balled as he looked into the faces of three people he respected and trusted whose betrayal cut deep.

            “How could you?” he rasped out. “How could you?”

            “Can’t help but feel sorry for you,” Pittoo said sardonically.

            “Where’s your big brother now?” jeered Kyle.

            _From now on, I would suggest keeping a better eye on Daisy, since you love her so much_ , scoffed Mewtwo.

            Kyle was “merciful enough” to bandage up some of Luigi’s sword wounds and made sure he thanked him for it. As the man in green made his way to his own room, the trio _laughed_.

            As soon as he was gone, Kyle went to Pittoo’s computer and wasted no time uploading this newest video to YouTube.

            “The Year of Luigi is over,” he proclaimed.

            Or so he thought…

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            Kirby’s Warp Star blended perfectly with the beautiful night sky. Skillfully, he guided it through the air, Pikachu clinging to him from behind. They’d spent all night on a “date” of sorts, visiting all of the candy stores in Smashville and relieving them of a significant amount of their merchandise, doing unto the bakeries in a similar fashion and then paying a visit to Rainbow Road before using the Warp Star to trace and create a few constellations. Now, Kirby was content to just fly into the quiet night, giggling occasionally as his passenger “pika”-ed happily.

            Eventually, they ended up at a table in a late-night restaurant, sharing Chinese food in a romantic fashion straight out of _Lady and the Tramp_.

            “Pika,” sighed Pikachu as the two stared into each other’s eyes.

            “Poyo,” replied Kirby.

            Master Hand was right; their friendship had turned into something more through the years. When the cute ball of fluff and the adorable electric mouse first laid eyes on each other, it was love at first sight. But they were too shy to admit their feelings. They didn’t share their first kiss until Melee, and then the Skull Bash/Green Missile business drove a bit of a wedge between them. Stories abounded that Kirby had dated Jigglypuff for a while, but Jiggs didn’t want to be known as “the rebound puff” and encouraged Kirby to return to Pikachu, which he eventually did. It took the Subspace shebang for the two of them to finally confess how much they loved each other, and they’d been in a serious relationship ever since. However, they weren’t thinking of the “m” word just yet.

            Kirby acted first, leaning forward and pressing his lips to Pikachu’s, a gentle yet passionate kiss. The starlight and moonlight framed them, better than a mushy romantic movie or a soap opera.

            “Poyo, poyo,” said Kirby once they separated.

            Pikachu stroked Kirby’s blushed cheek. “Pika,” he said softly.

            After about twenty more minutes of making out, the duo mounted the Warp Star and headed home.

            Kirby guided his vehicle to a smooth landing just outside the entrance. He took Pikachu’s hand and led him to his room. They stepped inside and began to fervently kiss each other. Just as they landed on the bed, though…

            “Aw—isn’t this cute?”

            The duo wheeled around to see Kyle smirking at them.

            Lustful urges forgotten, Pikachu and Kirby narrowed their eyes at the duplicitous Mii Swordfighter and dropped into their fighting stances.

            Kyle drew his sword. “This’ll be a piece of cake,” he told himself as he charged at the couple.

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            Mewtwo’s eyelids fluttered as his internal alarm clock went off. It would be a long time before breakfast, but the sooner he woke up and attended to his toilette, the better.

            His train of thought was broken when a pair of lips forced themselves against his.

            Eyes snapping open, Mewtwo shook himself free and prepared to face off against the intruder. _Who dares to wake me?_ He demanded.

            “Over here.”

            Mewtwo spun around. _L!_

            “I know it was you. All along,” said Luigi. “Mewtwo, you broke my heart.”

            _What is this nonsense? Didn’t I already deal with you yesterday? You caused enough trouble. Now get out of my room._

            “Why should I?” snapped Luigi. “You saw fit to barge into _my_ room without my permission. All I’m doing is returning the favor.”

            _Some surprise Kuro gave you, hmm?_ _You seem a little sore about it_.

            “Oh, I’m very sore at what you three did, Mewtwo,” Luigi told him as he advanced on him. “I’m very sore that three people who used to be so sweet to me would suddenly turn on a dime like this. Was it all an act? Were you pretending to like me all this time? Why would you do something like that to me?”

            _It would be safe to say that you asked for it_ , Mewtwo replied shamelessly. _Now on your way._

            Mewtwo attempted to push Luigi out of the room, but the green-clad man broke free of the telekinesis and grabbed him.

            “Not this time, old friend,” he said menacingly. “This time, it’s your turn.”

            The Psychic Pokémon found himself sent reeling to the floor. Quickly, he fired a Shadow Ball at Luigi and missed. As he tried to get back up, Luigi tripped him and followed him back down.

            Mewtwo twisted against the pin, to no avail. _You have some nerve_!

            “Well, aren’t you a hypocrite?” Luigi shot back as he began pounding Mewtwo with electrified fists. Each punch thudded like a cannon shot into the psychic’s body. “You had a lot of nerve ruining my day. I just bet you were hugging yourself after it was over and then decided to get second helpings alongside your friends Pittoo and Kyle!”

            _So what if I was?!_

            “Yesterday, you made a mistake. A grave, grave mistake.” A gloved hand wrapped around Mewtwo’s neck and began to squeeze. “I am not a punching bag anymore, and you of all people should know that!”

            His rage roared to life as he returned every last blow Mewtwo had given to him the other day. Despite the pain and the dull breaks, Mewtwo didn’t scream, which didn’t sit well with the man astride him. He lit up a flame in his index finger and took it to Mewtwo’s sensitive skin, making him hiss and arch his back. Then, Luigi got off of him, pulling him to his feet.

            “You’re not sorry for what you did, are you?”

            _Why would I be_?

            Luigi wound up and jabbed his right hand into Mewtwo, knocking him backward. “You enjoyed every minute of it, didn’t you?”

            _Of course I did_!

            He rammed Mewtwo face-first against the door. “And your friends—you had it all planned out, didn’t you?!”

            This time, he didn’t wait for a reply, instead smash-attacking Mewtwo’s back with savage power before whipping him back around, making him look him in the eye.

            “Did you put all of that on YouTube? Both of them? Did you?”

            _It was Kyle’s idea, not mine!_

            “What kind of excuse is that?” He shot his elbow into Mewtwo’s right shoulder, dislocating it. “You could have refused!”

            _That is where you belong! All over the Internet, humiliated!_

            Luigi paled. “What did you just say?”

            _You heard me_.

            The elbow met Mewtwo’s right shoulder a second time, eliciting a satisfying crunch. The left shoulder was taken care of next.

            “I thought you respected me!” yelled Luigi as he pounded at Mewtwo harder than ever. “I thought you supported me!”

            Mewtwo was in too much pain to retort.

            After a fist connected with the center of his body, Mewtwo released a choked cry and fell to his knees. A back spinning kick snapped his head back and dropped him onto his back. There, he saw Luigi crouched next to him, anger, confusion and hurt doing a wild dance on his angular face.

            “What’s the point of these if you barely use them anyway?” Luigi asked softly as he seized one of Mewtwo’s arms. Joint by joint, he broke it.

            _This is a shameful display! I demand an explanation!_

            “I don’t have to explain a thing anymore,” Luigi said to him as he broke the other arm in the same fashion.

            He took his time with the legs, observing each contortion passing through Mewtwo’s face as each joint snapped apart. Once all four limbs were out of commission, Luigi marched his tormentor into the bathroom, grasping the back of his head so he couldn’t look away.

            “This was how I felt yesterday when you were putting me through that mess,” he spat. “It was nothing but a party to you, but how about now? Is this entertainment, watching yourself feel my pain, pain that you caused? Did you think about the consequences before deciding to turn on me?”

            He reached into a drawer and pulled out a straight razor. Then, he started cutting Mewtwo, all over his front and back. The psychic was so horrified that he started to dribble. But Luigi gave no quarter, making him watch as he carved the letter “L” into his stomach.

            “Here’s a question? Who is the true loser here?” Luigi demanded of him as he made the last slices.

            Mewtwo moaned.

            “Oh, we’re not done yet,” said Luigi, holding the razor up to Mewtwo’s eye. “We’re just getting started!”

            _NO!_

Too late. With almost surgical precision, the eyeballs were carved from Mewtwo’s face, leaving two very bloody sockets with remnants of stems attached to them. Mewtwo nearly cried as his eyesight was slowly and agonizingly stolen from him. He felt blood pouring all over his face and the empty sockets throbbing and burning. Then, searing heat swept across the sockets as Luigi jabbed fiery fingers into them, stopping the bleeding but causing more pain.

            “I could put this all on video,” he heard Luigi say, “but I’m not stooping to your level.”

            Then, he felt the razor carve a few more times into the sightless face before it clattered into the sink.

            There was a sickening silence. Mewtwo guessed that Luigi was studying what he had done, similar to the way he’d studied _his_ handiwork nearly twenty-four hours ago.

            Finally, Luigi spoke.

            “Let’s see if your telekinesis helps you out of this.”

            At the sound of a tool whirring, Mewtwo did the only thing he could think of.

            He screamed.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Morning was approaching when Luigi slipped back into his own room, Mewtwo’s screams still playing in his mind. He showered quickly, pulled on some clean clothes and withdrew his list from a secret compartment. Trusty red marker in hand, he crossed off Mewtwo’s name. He’d let Pittoo and Kyle shudder before giving them theirs, too.

            Everything was returned to its proper place. Luigi closed his eyes and was about to doze off when someone frantically knocked on his door.

            He opened it to find Meta Knight.

            “Hey, Meta,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

            Meta Knight steeled his voice to be as calm as possible. “L, _es horrible_! It’s Pikachu and Kirby—you won’t believe.”

            “What?” Luigi felt his heart speed up.

            “That no-good Kyle…” Meta took a deep breath. “He hurt them badly last night.”

           

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> 1) They are not going to win this time.  
> 2) Never give up.


	18. See What I've Become

            “They’re going to live,” said Dr. Mario.

            “Ah, _gracias a Dios_ ,” breathed Meta Knight, with Luigi offering up similar thanks.

            “Can we see them?” asked Luigi.

            “Sure. Just keep it brief. I want them to rest,” replied Dr. Mario.

            Bracing themselves, Meta Knight and Luigi stepped inside.

            “Poyo!” greeted Kirby, a little weary but still bright.

            “Kirby!” the visitors cried in unison.

            “Pika!” Pikachu piped up.

            Luigi and Meta stood and looked at them. Kirby’s pink skin was festooned with purple and greenish-brown. With the bandages swathing him, he looked as if he’d obtained the Sheik ability. Pikachu was likewise bandaged, and there was an ice pack on one foot.

            “How are you feeling?” asked Luigi.

            Positive-sounding “poyo”-ing and “pika”-ing filled the air.

            “Why would Kyle do something like this?” Meta wanted to know.

            “Poyo poy poyo,” Kirby explained to his mentor. He and Pikachu were ardent Luigi supporters and had vouched for Daisy as well as Bandana Dee and Pichu, respectively. By targeting them, Kyle had hoped to really destroy the man in green.

            “Pika, pika,” added Pikachu. Indeed, they had done nothing to Kyle. They were just getting ready for bed when he burst in. They had attempted to defend themselves and failed.

            “Where is he now?” growled Meta, tightening his grip on Galaxia.

            “Poyo, poyo, poyo, po poyo,” Kirby said bitterly.

            “Gloating about it in a hiding spot? That’s a sure bet,” huffed Luigi. “Fact is, he can’t hide forever.”

            “Poyo, poyo, poyo poy!” hissed Kirby, clenching his appendages.

            “Right now, you need to get healthy again,” soothed Meta Knight. “Hopefully, the Hands know about this and will react accordingly.” Yet he doubted the words as he spoke them.

            The door suddenly blew open, revealing Master Hand. “Sweet Subspace! Kirby, Pikachu—are you all right?!”

            The two nodded.

            “Are you sure Kyle was the one who did this?” Master wanted to know.

            “The _tonto_ put it all over YouTube! Of course I’m sure!” snapped Meta.

            Luigi’s stomach lurched. “He did what?”

            Before Meta could confirm what he just said, Master broke in. “I offer him a second chance, and this is how he thanks me?!”

            “He’s an ungrateful man,” intoned Meta.

            “You’re saying that he posted a video of it to YouTube?”

            “ _Sì_ ,” Meta sighed sadly.

            “Any reason why he’d attack two of my Smashers?” asked Master.

            “One, as a way to get to me,” offered Luigi. “Two, as revenge for you making him confess to me and Mario.”

            “My God,” gasped Master.

            “I take it that you just found out about this,” Luigi icily observed.

            “L, I was out like a light,” said Master. “He probably drugged me!”

            “How about Crazy and MC?” asked Meta.

            “Them, too,” said Master.

            “That’s low,” muttered Luigi. “Sleeping pills?”

            “Maybe,” postulated Master. “I’d better go on YouTube and see this for myself.”

            “Wait! What about Kyle?” demanded Luigi.

            “Later today, I’ll deal with him myself,” promised Master, “but don’t worry. He’ll be punished. Severely!”

            And then he was gone.

            “Yes. He will,” Luigi ominously promised.

            “Luigi…” began Meta.

            Rushing footsteps. A blonde, pig-tailed young woman burst in. “Kirby!” she wailed.

            “Poyo!”

            “Tiff,” Meta and Luigi breathed.

            Tiff, also known as Fumu, was at Kirby’s side in one leap. “I got here as fast as I could!” she panted. “Kirby, you look terrible! Who did this to you?”

            Kirby placed an appendage on Tiff’s arm, reassuring her with a string of “poyo”-ing.

            “Where’s Tuff?” asked Meta.

            “He’ll visit later today,” explained Tiff. Her eyes flashed. “Who hurt my friend?”

            “Some bully named Kyle,” Luigi said instantly.

            Hate and rage twisted Tiff’s face. “Kirby’s a sweet little guy? Why does this Kyle person think he is?”

            “Tiff, he has a sword,” warned Meta.

            “So?” challenged Tiff. “Let him try to attack me! I’ll rip him apart with his bare hands!”

            “I’ll handle him, Tiff,” said Meta.

            “What exactly do you have in mind?” asked Tiff.

            “To defend my mentee’s honor, as well as my compadre Luigi’s, I intend to challenge him to a duel.”

            “Make sure you leave some room for me,” Luigi told him.

            Tiff hugged Kirby. “You’re safe now,” she whispered. “That awful man will never hurt you again.”

            More commotion sounded outside the room from various Pokémon rallying around Pikachu. The occupants also recognized a human voice.

            “Ash,” whispered Luigi.

            It didn’t take long for the room to become crowded with horrified and outraged Smashers.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            “How did you get in here?” shrieked Pittoo.

            Bayonetta lay next to him on the bed, smiling seductively. “It appears that in your haste, you forgot to engage the lock on your door,” she purred. “Any reason why you were in such a rush?”

            “Nothing,” Pittoo said quickly.

            “Now, now. No need to get antsy,” the Umbra witch cooed. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just curious about a few things.”

            “Like what?” asked Pittoo.

            Bayo played with a lock of Pittoo’s hair. “Like your dealings with my new friend, Luigi. Didn’t you like him once?”

            “Wha—I—I don’t know,” stammered Pittoo.

            “The same little angel who takes him along with you to party at Chuck E. Cheese’s is also the same bad, bad angel who conspires with two others to savagely attack him. What are the odds?” sighed Bayo.

            “How did you know?” squealed Pittoo.

            “If you didn’t want anyone to find out, then you shouldn’t have made an Internet video sensation out of it.”

            “I can explain…”

            “I wonder, though, how come you take him to Chuck E. Cheese’s? A guilty conscience, perhaps? From what I heard, you cared not that his lady didn’t make the cut.”

            “I didn’t want an angel hunter breathing down my neck, but I sure as Hades didn’t want _her_ around me,” said Pittoo. “That would’ve been enduring gratuitous mushiness from the both of them. Ick!”

            “You wouldn’t have to see them getting mushy, because you would’ve gone someplace else.”

            “L and I—it’s complicated between us,” said Pittoo.

            “You complicated it more, it seems. Now, this may surprise you, but I’m very forgiving. You have a frenemy named Jeanne to thank for that. But I will be watching you very closely, and if I find you giving my newest friend a hard time, then there’s going to be trouble.” She winked. “Ta-ta.”

            Pittoo shuddered as the Umbra witch saw herself out.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            After breakfast, Master Hand postponed the morning matches to confront the Smashers over the horrible videos posted last night.

            “Do you understand the firestorm you’ve brought down on this tournament?” he demanded. “Three people were hurt! And this will not help our publicity! Nobody wants to compete in a tournament where such vicious acts are frequent!”

            “Publicity?” Mario broke in. “What about my bro? And Pikachu and Kirby? You mean to tell me that you care more about publicity than them?!”

            “I didn’t say that.”

            “Well, that’s what it sounded like!” Luigi led the charge. “I can’t believe that the first thing you want to address is publicity!”

            “I understand that you are upset, but do not lash out at me,” warned Master. “As for the rest of you, I am only giving you one chance. Step forward and own up, because you know who you are, and you know what you did.”

            Nothing.

            “Kyle? Dark Pit? Is there something you’d like to say?” challenged Master. “Mewtwo—where’s Mewtwo?”

            “Where he belongs,” whispered Luigi.

            Master shot a glance at the green-clad plumber, unease shooting through him.

            “I warned you, Master Hand,” Luigi said aloud. “If you don’t take care of them—I will.”

            Pittoo looked ready to barf. Kyle was nowhere to be seen.

            “I agree with L. If he hadn’t gotten to him, then I would’ve taken him myself,” spat Lucario.

            “Why, Pittoo—you look quite ill,” said Master Hand. “Did you eat some bad food? Or is it something else?”

            “I’m going to throw up,” the angel said weakly.

            “And why is that?” Luigi asked innocently. “Is something weighing on you so heavily that it’s making you nauseous? Maybe if you relieve yourself of that burden, you’ll feel better.”

            “No, everything’s peachy,” said Dark Pit, a little too quickly. “Just something I ate. Gods—I have to go.”

            He got up and bolted outside. The sounds of hurling soon followed.

            “Go ahead and run, Pittoo,” Luigi said softly. “You’ll never get away…”

            “Where is Kyle?” asked Master Hand.

            Shrugs.

            “Well? Go look!” ordered the glove.

            “With pleasure,” growled Lucina as she unsheathed Falchion.

            “Scratch that. Crazy, Dad and I will search for him,” Master said quickly. “As for the rest of you, to your matches. And if you see something, say something. Dismissed!”

            Master Hand watched Luigi intently as the Smashers spilled out of the auditorium.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

**Blank stares from broken men**

**So withered from the poisons**

**They can't remember when**

**There were once honest reasons**

**It's all the lie**

**It died a hundred thousand miles ago**

**Pretending I'm still here**

 

**Justify what I've become**

**Sanctify what I've become**

 

**Amazing disgrace how sweet the sound**

**That saved a wretch like me**

**Better lost if this is found**

**Best blinded never to see**

**The race to save face**

**Nothing now is what we meant it to be**

**Pretending I'm still here**

 

**It's a system now Intertwined**

**Take your place in the line**

**To be ground by the gears of the masterpiece**

**Betrayal**

            On account of the turn of events, Master Hand slotted in some eight-man matches, the most intense, grittiest eight-man matches he’d ever overseen. And Luigi eagerly partook in all of them. Hard rock and heavy metal played loudly all over the arena as eight Smashers of Master’s choosing pounded out their stress and rage. Two people wound up disqualified, but luckily, Luigi wasn’t one of them. Mandy and Evan wound up in three in a row, and the rush was so much that they finished up in Mandy’s bedroom, ravenously devouring each other (not literally, thank goodness). By the time the eight-man frays were concluded, Luigi’s head was splitting, and his throat was on fire from screaming out all of his fury. He lasted long enough to stumble into his bedroom, slip off his shoes and climb into bed, where he quickly fell into the arms of slumber.

            His headache and sore throat dulled by the time he woke up for dinner. A cool shower washed away battle wounds, dirt and tears. He dressed in his Ice Flower uniform, which seemed to further cool his rage. Now that everyone felt a tad better, the cafeteria was a lively, happy scene. Pittoo, feeling the walls closing in, was the only one subdued. And Kyle was still a no-show.

            After dinner, Pittoo gathered Lucina and the rest of his friends, hoping to escape with a night at Chuck E. Cheese’s. But his conscience had other plans.

            “Hey, L. Let me make things up to you,” he said to the man in question. “Come with us.”

            Luigi smiled at him, a forgiving smile. “Sure.”

            What Pittoo didn’t count on was the man in green bringing Bayo along.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            At Chuck E. Cheese’s, Pittoo and company did their usual thing, but it just wasn’t the same. Pittoo wondered how many of his friends saw the video, and of those who did, how many noticed him. But everybody acted oblivious. The dark angel didn’t know whether to be relieved or more anxious.

            He relaxed a little after sharing a few dances and kisses with Lucina. Then, while he went to trade some back-and-forth with Reyn, Lucina sat with Bayo and Luigi.

            “I trust that you won’t hurt him,” the bluenette said to the Umbra witch.

            “As long as he gives me a reason not to,” Bayo shot back.

            Pittoo turned in time to see Luigi whispering something into Lucina’s ear. Slowly, a look of shock, disbelief, anger and disgust came across her face. “Kuro!” she yelled.

            “What?” asked Pittoo.

            “You want to know what he just told me? That you helped Mewtwo and Kyle do those—things—to Luigi. That’s unthinkable. It must be a mistake.” Her eyes pleaded with him. “Just tell me it’s a mistake. I’ll believe you, I promise.”

            Pittoo looked away from her, fumbling for words.

            Luigi and Bayo said nothing.

            In his silence, Lucina read the ugly truth. “No. Oh, gods, no!” she gasped.

            Luigi was the first to move, rushing to comfort her.

            “How could the man I love, whose fate I wanted to entwine with mine, be a cruel, sadistic bully?” Lucina half-sobbed. “Didn’t you care about me? You should’ve known I’m good friends with him! Are you jealous? Is that what it is?!”

            “N-no. It’s just—it’s just—I—he…”

            “I am in no mood for your lame excuses,” Lucina said sternly. “It is not acceptable to antagonize someone like that, especially one of my best friends. We’re done, Kuro. I never want to see you again. Have a nice life.” She drew herself up and made a resolute exit, Robin and Reflet following close behind her.

            “Wait. What?” gasped Reyn.

            “You were one of the guys in that video?” cried Viridi.

            “After all he’s done for and with you?” added Cloud.

            “What in the Underworld, Pittoo?” shouted Pit.

            “Have you any shame?” chided Corrin.

            “Look what you did to poor Lucy!” exclaimed Corrine.

            “And look what you put L through!” Roy put in.

            “I’m surprised at you, Pittoo!” admonished Palutena. “Apologize at once!”

            “Why should I?” barked Pittoo. “I’m not sorry I did it! In fact, I enjoyed it! And I wished I did worse!”

            Everyone turned on him, yelling, accusing, questioning, fulminating and lecturing him on how he destroyed friendships and trust. Pittoo remained hardened and petulant till the very end, when he demanded everyone to get lost. They did so in a huff.

            Luigi was the only one who didn’t leave. He just stared speechlessly at the dark angel.

            Pittoo sighed wearily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean all of that.”

            “I know,” said Luigi. “Let’s go home.”

            The walk back to the Smash mansion was mostly in silence. Silence which grew increasingly uncomfortable till Pittoo broke it. “Please, don’t hate me,” he said. “They pressured me into doing it. Please understand.”

            “Didn’t look like it to me,” Luigi said quietly.

            “I wasn’t in the best of moods. It will never happen again,” said Pittoo. “Forgive me.”

            “I do,” whispered Luigi, a hand on the angel’s shoulder. “I do.”

            “I really need a hug right now,” hiccupped Pittoo.

            “Me, too,” sniffled Luigi.

            They drew each other into a tight embrace, Luigi resisting the urge to simply crush his antagonist on the spot. Once they felt better, they separated and continued on the way home.

            There was something Pittoo didn’t know.

            During the hug, Luigi had taken one of his two blades. Presently, he hid it behind his back. Waiting.

            The dark angel, feeling Luigi’s eyes on him, tried to quicken his pace. That cowardly action was the last straw for the man in green.

            In seconds, Pittoo found himself shoved into an alleyway and pinned against a brick wall.

            “This isn’t funny, L!” snapped Pittoo as he struggled.

            “You’re right. It isn’t,” Luigi stated calmly. “It’s not funny at all.”

            He speared his free hand into Pittoo’s face.

            “First you ruin my night by blabbing to Lucy, and now you’re scaring me like this?!” balked Pittoo. “You good-for-nothing little…”

            He was cut off by another powerful blow to the face, followed by another, and another, and another.

            “There’s no use in playing the victim now,” Luigi said, still in a calm voice. “From the second you woke up this morning, you knew this was coming.”

            He tightened his grip on Pittoo as another volley of blows met his face.

            “I think you’ve taken me to Chuck E. Cheese to make yourself feel better after that little note you wrote to me. So how about it? Do you feel sorry for me now?”

            Pittoo was unable to protect himself from the body blows now coming his way.

            “Judging by the fun you had last night, the answer is a definite ‘no’.”

            The blows kept coming, flashes of last night’s experience appearing before Luigi’s eyes. The hurt. The humiliation. The helplessness. The pain. The hours of torture. The tears and pleas for them to stop. Luigi couldn’t take it anymore. He tried to do the right thing and let the Hands take care of it, and look where that got him! He tackled Dark Pit as hard as he could to the stony ground, where he continued his assault. Not even allowing the dark angel the luxury of screaming as he had.

            How much time passed? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? By the time Luigi finally let up, his knuckles and elbows smarted from the terrific strikes he’d administered to his tormentor. He was gasping for breath and fighting back angry sobs. Both were sweaty, one from fear, the other from effort. Pittoo was on his back, a mess of black and crimson, burned from fireballs. Eardrums pounding from when Luigi lost it a bit and started hollering. Everything had gone deathly quiet. Would somebody notice and get help? Fat chance at this time of night!

            Luigi yanked Pittoo to his feet and rammed him back against the wall, face-first this time. Out came the purloined blade.

            “You know something, Pittoo? Having fun at my expense is kind of like mating with the queen bee. You’ve had your pleasure, and now….” He hefted the blade. “…it’s time to go.”

            The blade sliced into one of Pittoo’s wings, tearing through flesh and grinding through bone. Pittoo began to scream while Luigi took his time sawing the wing off. The man in green forced the bully to look at the severed wing, to which bits of bone and flesh still clung. He listened to Pittoo sob over the blood running down his back before starting on the other wing. This one, he severed even slower, making it more painful. He dropped both bloodied wings to the floor and forcefully turned their owner around so that he could see them.

            “This is what happens when you fly too close to the sun,” Luigi tsk-tsked.

            Pain blazed down the dark angel’s back, and the sight of his own wings sickened him. Luigi allowed him to slump against the wall before advancing on him.

            And as the dark angel’s own blade carved all over his torso, Luigi leaned in close and whispered:

            “I can’t help but feel sorry for you.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            After pounding Sandbags till he felt like he was going to drop, Luigi trekked to his room, changed into his sleepwear and sliced his red marker through Pittoo’s name like a surgeon’s scalpel. His eye fell on Kyle’s name for a moment, and as his mind started to race again, he hastily shelved the list before making himself comfortable in his bed. He’d let Kyle sleep soundly tonight. It would be the last sleep he ever had.

**Justify what I've become**

**Sanctify what I've become**

 

**Suffered consequence It's been so long**

**Since any piece of this made any kind of sense**

**You anoint the king I'll burn everything down to ashes**

**You giveth, I taketh away**

**You giveth, I taketh away**

 

**It's a system now Intertwined**

**Take your place in the line**

**To be ground by the gears of the masterpiece**

**Betrayal**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any lyrics. Song is "What I've Become" by Lamb of God.


	19. Inside of You, in Spite of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the song by ThouShaltNot; I do not own the lyrics.

            “Where could he be hiding?” asked Master Core.

            Master Hand shrugged.  “He could be off at Mii Plaza, using his innocent mask to target more unsuspecting prey,” he postulated.  “He could be anywhere.  He’s never told us of a place he likes to go to clear his head.”

            “Well, our top priority is to get to him before others do,” said Crazy Hand.  “We have to work quickly.”

            “Maybe we can have Sammy and Douglas track him down,” said MC.  “They’re pretty good bounty hunters.”

            “I thought they were going undercover to infiltrate the anti-Daisy masses,” said Master.

            “They were,” said MC, “but they fear that their cover might by blown.  By Kyle, no less.  One thing about him, he remembers a face.”

            “Judging by what he did to Pikachu and Kirby, there’s no telling what he might do to the other Smashers who stand in his way,” shuddered Crazy, “especially those who spy on him and his friends or get him into trouble.”

            “Pardon me for digressing,” said MC, “but I couldn’t help but notice that our two bounty hunters are spending more time together outside of work.  They are very—compatible together.”

            “Agreed,” Master and Crazy said in unison.

            “They are quite capable of taking care of themselves, too,” added Master.

            “Now, we need to put all areas of Smash on high-alert,” said MC, getting back to the subject.  “Put out a description of Kyle and tell him that he’s wanted dead or alive.  Anyone sees him, they report him to us immediately.”

            “Gee, I hope this works,” fretted Crazy.

            “Don’t worry,” said Master.  “It will.”

            Suddenly, the intercom beeped.  MC answered it.

            “You three need to get over here, now.”  Lucina’s voice sounded urgent.  “I’ve found something that you’ve got to see.”

            “On our way,” said MC.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            When the trio reached Lucina’s room, they were face-to-face with a shaken Lucina and a very angry Chrom.

            “What is it?  What’s going on?” asked MC.

            “Do you have even the slightest idea of what my doppelganger has been up to?!” bellowed Chrom.

            “Besides attacking my Smashers?” asked Master, “and cyberbullying people?”

            Lucina held up what looked like a camera.  “I found this in my shower,” she announced in clipped tones.

            Master took it.  “Goodness,” he breathed.  “How long has this been in there?”

            “Only Naga knows!” snapped Lucy.  “I just noticed it now!”

            “Your so-called trusty confidante has been spying on my little girl in the shower!” roared Chrom.  “I swear to the gods, once I get my hands on him…”

            “Chrom, settle down,” said MC.  “We’re doing our job.  We _will_ find him.”

            “No, you are not doing your job,” Lucy said as calmly as she could.  “Last night, I found out that the man I loved assaulted one of my close friends, and not too long ago, I discovered that my ancestor had been among the cyberbullies under a pseudonym.  Now, you’re telling us that you’ve had suspicions since the first tournament?  This is something we should know about on the first day, Master Hand.”

            “Granted, we’ve overlooked some people,” admitted Master, “but I assure you, the parties will be punished, and you will come to no harm.”

            “Yeah, just make it snappy, unless you prefer them to fall by my own sword,” muttered Chrom.  “Where’s that Dark Pit, anyway?  He’ll be the first one to go.”

            “You’re right.  Where _is_ he?” asked MC.  “He didn’t come back from Chuck E. Cheese’s last night.”

            “Lucina,” began Master.  “Did—Luigi tag along with you guys?”

            Lucy nodded.  “He comforted me when I found out the ugly truth about Kuro.  And then when everyone else confronted him, he started ranting about how he should’ve done worse!  I’d left before then, but Palutena gave me the skinny when she and Pit got back.”  She leaned in and whispered, “I think she’s pretty.”

            MC looked ready to faint.  “My God,” he murmured.

            “L stayed with Kuro when everyone else walked out on him,” shrugged Lucy.

            “Do you know when he got back?” asked Crazy.

            “It was pretty late.  I heard him beating Sandbags for a while.  He probably tried to get some sleep after that.  My guess is that he gave Kuro what was coming to him.”

            “I’m glad that plumber beat me to it, because I would’ve made it slower and more painful,” growled Chrom.  “He lied to and hurt my daughter, for Naga’s sake!”

            “Oh, no,” whispered MC.

            “What?” asked Chrom and Lucy.

            “Search the rest of the room,” commanded MC.  “I have a dreadful feeling about this!”

            Quickly, father and daughter obliged, with the three final bosses helping.  No other cameras were found.  MC heaved a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived.

            “Lucy, I need to borrow your computer,” he said.  “Now.”

            “Okay,” nodded Lucy.

            “Wait—wha—what are you doing?” asked Chrom.

            “Hoping that my suspicions prove false,” replied MC.

            Unfortunately, they weren’t.

            For there, on YouTube, was the final nail in Kyle’s coffin.  The straw which broke the camel’s back.  With this latest video, Kyle had placed a bounty on his head, a bounty larger than anyone could ever imagine.

            “What is it?” asked Chrom when MC cried out.

            Master and Crazy tried to restrain him.  “No, don’t!”

            It was too late.  Chrom looked at the video and shouted, too.

            Without even looking at it, Lucina knew what it was.

            “One last question,” said Master in a shaky voice.  “How did you take that camera off?”

            Lucy pointed to Falchion.  “I used this to hack it off.  Now, I’m going to use it to hack off all of Kyle’s limbs, followed by his head.”

            “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Crazy.  “Stay out of this and let us handle him, all right?”

            Lucy scoffed.  “Easier said than done.”

            “Truly, we are sorry about this,” apologized MC.  “We thought Kyle had seen the light when he apologized to the Mario Bros, but I guess we were wrong.  Have a good day, you two.”

            As they made their exit, they knew it was only a matter of time before Luigi saw that video—

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            _“A scary situation has arisen for Smash fighters old and new.  Two days ago, two veteran Smashers were brutally attacked as they were getting ready to turn in for the night.  The reason?  They were closely associated with Luigi Mario and had voted for Princess Daisy on the Smash Ballot._

_“Also that day, Luigi had faced two vicious attacks of his own.  One of them was from Mewtwo, the Psychic Pokémon.  He had hidden in Luigi’s room and then struck when his target entered.  Mewtwo also participated in the second attack, but for this one, he was had two accomplices.  The first one was Dark Pit, Pit’s angel twin, who lured Luigi into the room on the pretext of giving him a surprise.  The second one was a Mii Swordfighter bearing the resemblance of the Hero of Exalts, Chrom.  He was also responsible for the attack on the two Smashers, Pikachu and Kirby._

_“And now, things have moved from the despicable to the unthinkable.  Chrom’s daughter, Princess Lucina, has confirmed that the Mii Swordfighter who had a hand in attacking Luigi, Kirby and Pikachu was also harassing her and her father online.  And the harassment against her had taken on a more sexual nature.  Recording equipment with the Mii’s fingerprints on it was found in her shower, and a video of her, naked in the shower, was just discovered on YouTube under the Mii’s account.  Appalled Smashers and citizens of Ylisse have called for punishment to be meted out._

_“The Mii has been identified as Kyle Massey, one of Master Hand’s personal assistants since last year.  Master Hand has stated that Kyle blames the Smash universe’s criticism of his semblance to Chrom and the stress associated with it for making him commit these atrocities.  He’s also claimed that the sugary sweets he’s indulged in has created a chemical imbalance in his brain which led to the bullying, harassment and acts of violence.  In the days leading up to the attacks, Kyle was seen hanging out at Chuck E. Cheese’s with Dark Pit and Mewtwo._

_“What?  Oh—oh, dear.  A development in this story has just been released.  Kyle Massey was spotted leading a group of anti-Daisy fanatics in a raid on Daisy’s castle.  The brave citizens of Sarasaland, even young children and pregnant women, rushed to defend the property at all costs.  One defender spotted Kyle making his way to Daisy’s chambers.  He was later seen again, barely conscious, in the arms of an escaping attacker.  So far, the people of Sarasaland will not divulge what may have happened, but beastly suspicions abound._

_An ardent Luigi fan found attacked and stripped naked in an alley has given a description of an attacker which matches Kyle’s description.  A slightly narrow, angular face and short, blue hair.  Please, note that he has a sword with him at all times and is considered extremely dangerous.  Do not approach him under any circumstances.  If you see him, you are encouraged to contact authorities immediately.”_

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            “We’ve frozen all of Mr. Massey’s assets,” said Falcon.  “If he even sneezes, Sammy and I will be there with a tissue and a pair of handcuffs.”

            Master Core nodded.  “Do you have backup in case you need it?”

            “‘No, MC, we’re completely stupid’,” Samus responded sarcastically.  “Of course we do.  Aside from the capable Smashers, I have Adam waiting in the wings.”

            “Your old friend, Adam?” asked Master Hand.

            “Yeah,” nodded Samus.

            “What does he look like?” asked Falcon, under his breath.

            “Douglas, you’ve met him before,” eyerolled Samus.  “He’s a nice guy.  We’re just colleagues, anyway.”

            “Someone’s a little envious,” remarked Crazy.

            “No, it’s not that,” Falcon said quickly.  “It’s just—I…,”

            “No need to worry,” Samus assured him.  “Adam has my best interests at heart.  He wouldn’t harm a fly—unless it’s trying to harm one of his own.”

            Falcon blushed.  “I’ll remember that.”

            “I deposited the money in your bank accounts,” said MC.  “Thanks for all of your help.”

            Falcon smiled.  “It’s always a pleasure getting some bounty hunting in between Smashing.”

            “Yeah.  Call us anytime,” added Samus.

            “And one more thing,” said Master.

            “What?” asked the two bounty hunters.

            “Don’t tell you-know-who,” warned Crazy.

            “We don’t have to,” Samus said grimly.  “He already knows.”

            The bosses sweatdropped as Falcon and Samus left.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

**I am in the air now, I am in your lungs**  
I am written, I am spoken by a million flaming tongues  
I'm the lens through which you see  
I'm the process, I am the key  
I am synapses firing bullets from a gun  
  
I'm the world's mystique, I am the words you speak  
I am language, I am hidden memories that you seek  
I am the sun before you see me rise  
I burn still when you close your eyes  
I am the soul that never dies when flesh is weak  
  
I am inside of you, in spite of you  
With strength and sacred grace  
But for all you do, I'll carry you  
From this bitter place

            In an undisclosed location, Kyle chuckled maliciously.  “They thought they boxed me in when they saw those Miiverse posts about the Mario Bros,” he monologued.  “They thought that their threats of punishment would turn me into a simpering, submissive servant.  Ha!  Little do they know, they haven’t tapped the surface of what I’m capable of!  And when I’ve had my fill, I can always escape here, to my super-secret hiding place, to watch it all play out.  Too bad my buddies Kuro and Mewtwo bit the dust, though.  I guess they weren’t as strong or as cunning as me.”

            He turned to the three Luigi fans he had in his clutches.  Feisty ones, they were.  They’d fought him the whole time, spit at him, cursed at him and screamed about how they’d be avenged if they weren’t rescued.  He’d solved that problem by slicing off their tongues the way one would slice off a piece of sausage.  Then, he sliced off their digits, their hands and their feet.  He continued to have some more fun with them until he ran out of ideas to make them pay for what they’d done to him, which was simply existing and supporting that excuse of a Smasher.

            “Out of the kindness of my heart, I am allowing you to keep your pathetic lives,” he told them, “but on several conditions.  I want them all to see the extent of my mercy when they see what I’ve wrought upon you.  I want them to know what you now know.  And I want them to know that nothing can stop me now.  Get along, before I change my mind.  Oh, wait—you can’t walk, can you?  Then you can crawl.”

            As soon as the three crawled away as fast as they could, Kyle sighed with pleasure.  “Everything is going just as I planned.  They tried to catch me in their net, but I wriggled free!  Soon, those Luigi and Daisy supporters will be living in fear.  And once I make my grand escape and report back to my other friends, that’s when the true fun will begin.  Kyle Massey, you are one bad boy!”

            “You sure are,” a voice whispered close behind him.

            Yelping, Kyle spun around.  “You!” he gasped.

            Luigi smiled.  “Don’t you just hate it when people walk in on you narrating your crimes and evil plans to yourself?” he asked.

            “What are you doing here?” demanded Kyle.

            “You can’t keep your secret hideout secret for long,” replied Luigi, “especially from two of the best bounty hunters in the world of Nintendo.”

            Kyle paled with terror.  “You don’t mean…”

            “That’s right, Kyle.  Captain Falcon and Samus Aran sniffed you out.  And once you’re in it deep with them, there’s no going back.”

            Backing away, the Mii reached for his sword—but he only found an empty sheath.

            “Looking for this?” asked Luigi as he brandished Kyle’s sword.  “You were so deep in your musings that it wasn’t hard for me to purloin this.  Too bad for you.  Now you have to watch.”

            Kyle broke out in a cold sweat.

            “Don’t bother trying to escape.  I have good friends who will make you regret it instantly,” Luigi warned him, setting the sword aside.  “Now, I’m going to ask you once, and once only.  What did you do to Daisy?”

            “I was never near her,” sneered Kyle.

            “Really?  The news tells me that you and a mob stormed her castle, and you forced your way into her chambers.  Then, luckily for you, an ally helped you escape when you were almost subdued.”

            “I just wanted to negotiate with her,” spluttered Kyle.

            “Well, judging by the fact that she rendered you semi-conscious, the negotiations didn’t pan out the way you hoped.  Maybe she was afraid for her safety, her life even, and that made her want to subdue you as quickly as possible so you could escape.”

            “I didn’t even touch her!  And even if I did, there would be no proof!”

            “Then how come the press doesn’t know anything?  It seems that something happened to her, something that her people don’t want the news to know about just yet.”

            “Well, that’s their problem now!  I just led that mob because I felt like it, all right?”

            “So,” said Luigi.  “Your apology to me and Mario—was a lie?”

            “Well, _duh_!” snapped Kyle.  “I didn’t think you’d ever figure _that_ out!”

            In two strides, Luigi was in the Mii’s personal space.  “Actually, I did a long time ago.”

            And with that, he grabbed Kyle and butt-stomped him…

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            It was close to dusk.  A small group made its way to the Smash mansion, escorting a handcuffed, hooded man.  Firmly grasping each of the man’s elbows was a pair of bounty hunters.  And walking ahead of the group was the mustachioed man in green.

            At the entrance, the group halted.  Luigi spoke some words to them, directing them to wait there.  Then, he, Samus, Falcon and their prisoner marched inside.

            Lucina was cleaning Falchion when she heard the knock at the door. 

            “I’ll get it!” called Robin as she crossed the room and opened it.

            When Robin opened the door, Samus yanked the hood from the man’s face, revealing a sufficiently startled Kyle.

            “Hi, Robin,” greeted Luigi.  “Is Lucy here?”

            “Yeah.  She’s cleaning her sword,” said Robin.  “Hey, Lucy!  Some friends are here to see you!”

            Lucy took Robin’s place at the door and froze when her eye fell on Kyle.

            “Don’t fret,” said Samus.  “He’s in no position to harm anyone.”

            The Chrom look-alike was bald, burned and bruised.  Deep lacerations scored his battered face, arms, legs and stomach.  A message, I AM A SICK, PERVERTED BULLY, was branded on his chest.  His sword, broken in two, was now in Luigi’s possession.  The smugness was gone from his face, replaced by naked fear.  He said nothing, but his eyes silently pleaded for mercy.  Lucina looked him up and down, gripping Falchion so tightly that her knuckles were white.

            “You finally found him,” she said softly.

            “He tried to make it hard for us, but yes, we did,” said Falcon.

            Luigi then shoved the disgraced Mii into Lucina’s room.  “He’s all yours,” he said simply.

            Lucina nodded, her lips in a hard line, before closing and locking the door.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Kyle slumped in relief as he heard the plumber and the bounty hunters walk away.  His sense of reprieve lasted exactly as long as it took for Lucina, Robin, Reflet, Roy, Chrom, Corrin and Corrinne to descend upon him.  He barely had enough time to see the satisfied look on Lucy’s face as she spat, “Naga showed you!”

            And then there was pain and finally—nothing.

 **I am in your future, I am in your past**  
I'm the echo of your footsteps, I'm your shadow cast  
I'm the heat you radiate  
I am the fury and the fate  
I am each beat within your heart, from first to last  
  
I'm your action without thought  
I am the instinct born inside you  
I'm the bones from which you drape  
I am protective skin to hide you  
  
I'm the pull that the earth exerts  
I am the rain that stings and the snow that blinds  
I'm the architecture of your world and mind  
  
I am inside of you, in spite of you  
With strength and sacred grace  
But for all you do, I'll carry you  
From this bitter place  
  
I am the dawn of ages, I am the days seen through  
I'm final entropy, I am inside of you  
I am the clouds that cover your way into the blue  
I kiss with life to give, all this in spite of you


	20. Interlude: Valentine's Day

**_Peach and Mario_ **

**She’s awakened from sleep by his soft lips on her skin.  Her eyes open and look into his sky blue ones.  He strokes her cheek, smiling at her.**

**“Morning,” she mumbles, willing her muscles to get a jump on the day.**

**“Morning, angel,” he replies.  “I have something for you.”**

**“What is it?” she asks.**

**The man in red presents the blonde princess with a ripe, juicy peach which has a suspicious slit down the middle.  Her mouth waters as the smell reaches her nose, but before she takes a bite, he stops her.**

**“Look inside,” he says softly.**

**Peach separates the peach halves and gasps.  Nestled where the pit usually is lies a sterling silver ring, inscribed with the message “M &P Forever”.  It’s better than the fruit itself.**

**“Oh, Mario!” she gasps.  “Thank you.”**

**“I knew you’d like it,” he smiles.  “Happy Valentine’s Day, Princess.”**

**“You, too, Mario,” replies Peach.**

**They fall back onto the bed, kissing and kissing, morning bustle all but forgotten.**

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

**_Mandy and Evan_ **

**“Morning, sunshine!” Evan sings out as he presents Mandy with a platter.  Eggs benedict, Vermont maple sausages and dollar-sized pancakes of assorted flavors, just the way she likes it.  The centerpiece, though, is the elegantly arranged edible bouquet.**

**“It’s that time again, huh?” winks Mandy as she accepts the platter.  “You know, a good chef always tastes the dish before serving it.”  Seductively, she feeds Evan a forkful of food.**

**“Mmm,” says Evan.  “I guess I’m a very good chef.”**

**After feeding each other a few mouthfuls, Mandy pipes up, “Hey, Evan, did you look in the fridge yet?  I have a surprise for you.”**

**“Let me look,” replies Evan before slipping away.**

**Seconds later, Mandy hears a gasp from the kitchen.  “You shouldn’t have!”**

**Eyes bright, Evan returns to Mandy’s side, cradling his prize.  “How did you know that a root beer float was my favorite treat in the whole wide world?”**

**“Two words: first date.”**

**“Oh.  Right.”  Evan beams.  “Thanks, Mandy.”**

**“Anything for my valentine,” coos Mandy.**

**Little does she know, Evan has another surprise up his sleeve…**

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

**_Pikachu and Kirby_ **

**It’s a great day.  The electric mouse and his love are finally out of the hospital, and it’s time to celebrate.  Morning finds them seated at a table for two, sharing a cornucopia of goodies.**

**“Poyo, poyo,” Kirby says finally, glad that Pikachu is all right.**

**“Pika,” nods Pikachu.**

**“Poyo, po-poy, poyo, po-poyo?” wonders Kirby.**

**“Pika, pi, pika,” says Pikachu, telling the puffball to stop talking about the past.**

**Kirby nods.  “Poyo?” he asks.**

**Pikachu lets out a long, soft “Pika” as he recalls the day they met.  The Original Twelve had gathered for the first time, lounging in the Reception Area of the Smash Mansion with their luggage, awaiting further instruction.  Pikachu had packed pretty light—just some toiletries, recreational materials, various homesickness remedies and a parting trinket from Ash.  He was starting to feel the effects of separation anxiety when he looked across the room and saw him.  The pink, carefree fluffball, puffing himself from Smasher to Smasher, saying a cheery “Hii!” to them.  He was so adorable, with those blushing cheeks, blue-ish, oval-shaped eyes, rotund form, stubby arms and red shoes.  Watching him float here and there, cheering up nervous Smashers, made Pikachu’s heartbeat quicken.  By the time the Star Warrior reached him, his separation anxiety had gone.**

**“Hii!” greeted Kirby.**

**“Pika!” giggled Pikachu.**

**And then Kirby had given the mouse a warm hug, whispering a reassuring “Poyo” to him.  He’d been the one to truly break him in and help him adjust to the Smashers’ typical schedule.  No doubt, Kirby had felt something for Pikachu, too, as he enjoyed spending most of his time with him.  Close to seventeen years, three tier lists, one “other puff”, one hilarious feud, one epic Subspace adventure, one expanding roster and seven DLC fighters, and look where they are now.**

**“Poy,” smiles Kirby.  Indeed, they have been through a lot, but their love will burn on like a star in the galaxy.**

**Suddenly, Pikachu excuses himself.  A confused Kirby listens to the sounds of rummaging, fussing and electrical currents.  Finally, Pikachu calls the puffball over.**

**Kirby finds Pikachu in another room and stops in his tracks.  The setting looks strangely familiar.  Above them, wires illuminated by Pikachu’s electricity spell out, HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY, KIRBY.  LET’S MAKE ELECTRICITY TOGETHER.**

**“Poyo!” Kirby yells happily.**

**Pikachu has expertly recreated the scene of their first “date”, ironically, they day the first tier list came out.  Instead of gloating, they’d retreated to the ice-cream parlor and shared a delicious banana split.  The dessert in question sat in the middle of a table, made with a fresh banana, strawberry ice-cream, fudge, whipped cream, heart-shaped sprinkles and a cherry.**

**“Pika,” smiles Pikachu.**

**He takes the puffball in his arms and kisses him, and then they help themselves to the banana split.**

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

**_Sammy and Douglas_ **

**Douglas lays on the bed, gasping and sweating, lost in the eyes of the space warrior straddling him.**

**“Admit it.  You needed that,” she says, her blond hair falling over her face as she bends down to kiss him.**

**“Yes,” he breathes.**

**Samus chuckles as she slides off of him, Douglas staring goggle-eyed at her bare back.  She’d spent the past hour or so showing him her moves, so to speak, and they’d both enjoyed it, every moment.  Now, it’s time for some mushiness.**

**Reaching into a drawer, Samus pulls out a drawing.  It features herself, in a pink cat suit with a heart on the chest, holding out a bouquet of flowers and saying, “Try me, valentine.  You’re mine.”**

**She turns to give Falcon the drawing when he pulls out some artwork of his own.  It’s comic book-style art, with him riding his Blue Falcon dressed as Cupid, a bow and a sheath of arrows in the backseat.  A speech bubble has him saying, “Happy Valentine’s Day.  Yes!  You are number one!”**

**“Whoa!  Did you draw that?” balks Falcon.**

**“Did you draw _that_?” retorts Samus.**

**“I’ll tell you if you tell me first,” he smirks.**

**“And I’ll tell you if you tell _me_ first.”**

**“Hmm, I have a better idea.  Final Destination, no items, two stock.  The loser has to spill.”**

**“You’re on,” smiles Samus.  “First, though…”**

**She climbs back on top of him and takes his mouth in hers.  Gently, he rotates them until he’s on top of her.**

**“Show me ya moves!  Yes!”**

**“Oh, Douglas,” eyerolls Samus.**

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

**_Little Mac and Ryu_ **

**“‘I may be known as Little Mac, but this Valentine’s Day, I can be your Big Mac’,” reads Ryu.**

**“It’s a running joke here,” the boxer explains.**

**“I’m not saying it’s cheesy,” says Ryu, “but…”**

**“I know, I know,” says Mac.  “It’s more funny than romantic.”**

**“Well, I think it’s kinda cute,” chuckles Ryu.**

**“Aww.  Thanks, man,” coos Mac.**

**“Here.  Let me give you mine,” says the martial artist as he hands his boyfriend his card.**

**Mac clears his throat and begins to read.  “‘Our journey has just begun, valentine.  Give it your all!’”**

**He looks up from his card, hearts in his eyes.  “Ryu—that is the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me!”**

**Ryu blushes.  “It was a labor of love.”**

**Mac kisses him.  “Can I really be all yours this Valentine’s Day?”**

**Ryu laughs.  “Sure you can!”**

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

**_Cloud and Reflet_ **

**“If you be my valentine, then I’ll Arcfire you up,” says Reflet.**

**“Well, if you Arcfire me up enough, I’ll reach my Limit, and, you know,” says Cloud.**

**“Together, we can tip the scales!” declares Reflet.  “I can be your Elwind and blow you away!”**

**“Now that was pretty good,” praises Cloud.  “I hope you have your head in the Clouds, though, because I’m going to take you to your Final Fantasy.”**

**Reflet blushes.  “Really, Cloud?”**

**Cloud shrugs.  “Couldn’t help myself.”**

**“Whatever.”  Reflet pulls Cloud on top of him.  “How about we stop talking and bring the Elthunder?”**

**“Why bring the Elthunder when we can bring the Thoron?”**

**“Even better.  Happy Valentine’s Day, Cloud.”**

**“Same here, Reflet.  Oooh, may I touch your Levin Sword?”**

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

**_Daisy and Luigi_ **

**The bed creaks, and screams are heard as the two lovers release their respective loads.  Snuggled in each other’s arms, they slowly glide back into the real world.  Daisy tucks a tuft of her man’s hair behind his ear.  “Hey.  You okay?” she asks.**

**“I should be asking that about you,” says Luigi.  “The things I’ve heard on TV…”**

**“L, you know I’m a tomboy,” says Daisy.  “I was ready for those fools from Day One.”**

**“But—he was in your room, and…”**

**“No worries.  He didn’t do much.  My tennis racket did a nice job dissuading him,” smirks Daisy.**

**Luigi breathes a prayer of thanks into the hollow of her neck.  He places his lips there and begins to suckle.**

**“But that’s over now, and we shouldn’t dwell on it, should we?” he hears her ask.**

**“You’re right,” he murmurs, suckling more fervently.**

**Daisy reaches for a gilded tray on her nightstand and takes a chocolate-covered berry.  Tapping her plumber to get his attention, she slips it into his mouth.**

**“Mmmm,” he hums.  He kisses her lips, smearing chocolate all over them.**

**“You know,” she says, sliding another berry into his mouth, “I’ve been having second thoughts about _her_.”**

**“Yeah?  Me, too,” confesses Luigi.  “I mean, I never _hated_ her, but I thought I was going to have a hard time adjusting to her.  Boy was I wrong.”**

**“Devil’s food cake,” smiles Daisy, referring to the reception for Bayo at the Smash mansion.  “Nice touch.”**

**“We’re almost like brother and sister now,” gushes Luigi.**

**“You know, if we win her over as an ally, it’ll be like hitting the jackpot.”**

**“Whoa!  I was thinking that, too!”**

**They laugh.**

**Once the platter of berries is almost gone, Luigi reaches under his pillow and hands a small box to Daisy.  “I—hope you like it,” he says sheepishly.**

**Slowly, Daisy opens the box.  Inside is a 1UP Mushroom pendant on a golden chain.  “Wow,” she gasps.**

**Luigi fastens it around her neck.  “It’ll always bring you luck,” he tells her.**

**“L,” she whispers.  “Happy Valentine’s Day.”**

**They fall, bodies entwined, back into the tangle of bedsheets.**

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

**_Corrin and Pit_ **

**Corrin opens his door to find a very shy angel.  “Hi, Pit,” he says.**

**“Hey, Corrin,” murmurs Pit.**

**“How are you holding up?” wonders Corrin.**

**“I’ve been through worse,” replies Pit.  He holds out some flowers and a box of conversation hearts.  “Could—could you be my valentine?  Please?”**

**“Sure, I will,” Corrin responds heartily, smooching Pit on the cheek.**

**“Listen, um, Evan’s hosting a special event this afternoon,” says Pit.  “Care to come with me as a—date?”**

**Corrin smiles.  “Why not?”**

**Arm in arm, Pit and Corrin set off down the hall together.**

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

**_A New Romance_ **

**It has been a few weeks since the masked knight caught Roy’s eye.  His dark blue, round body, flowy cape and yellow eyes shining beneath that mask.  He is beautiful, mysterious, and—cute.  His “game over” in the game of love still smarts, though, and he doesn’t know if he’s ready for a continue.**

**So far, he’s content to be just a friend to the rotund knight.  Following his breakup with Marth and the posthumous revelations of his darker side, Meta Knight has also been a source of counsel.  Roy has noticed that Meta is spending some more time with Luigi, dishing out advice, meditating with him, dueling him on the Halberd’s deck, the whole nine yards.  He is very happy he’s doing this for an old friend—but that doesn’t explain the attraction he feels to him.**

**He keeps telling himself that he needs time before jumping into a new relationship, but he can’t mope over Marth forever.  Time presses on, with new opportunities, and one grand opportunity is staring him in the face, saying “Notice me!”**

**As it turns out, that man in green is starting to catch on.  He’s given him a few winks and nudges, some verbal and some physical.  He’s even tried to set him and his crush up in quirky situations together.  Roy has never thought that Luigi would be the type to play matchmaker, but there’s more to him than meets the eye, isn’t there?**

**Maybe L is right.  The time has come to _carpe diem_ , to seize the day.  And that’s why, on the day of love, Roy is trekking to Meta Knight’s room with a bowl of conversations hearts and a sack of Maxim tomatoes on his back.  Even if the masked puffball doesn’t reciprocate his feelings, at least he’s taken a shot.**

**Roy reaches his destination and knocks on the door.  It opens, revealing—a maskless Meta Knight!**

**“Gods!  Sorry to bother you.  I’ll come back later,” says Roy, turning to leave.**

**“No, Roy.  I was expecting you,” says Meta Knight, halting the redhead.**

**“Really?” breathes Roy.**

**“Really, really.  There is something I need to tell you.”**

**“Well, there’s something I need to tell you, as well,” says Roy.**

**“Are those conversation hearts and Maxim tomatoes?”**

**“Yes.  I brought them for you,” admits Roy.**

**Meta smiles.  “ _Muchas gracias,_ ” he says.  “Now, back to the subject at hand.  What would you like to tell me?”**

**“Well, Meta—I, um, like you.”**

**Meta raises an eyebrow.  “Is that so?”**

**Roy nods.  “I really like you.  I mean, the way I liked Marth.  Fine, I’ll say it.  I’ve fallen in love with you.”**

**Meta blushes.  “I probably would’ve figured that out if you kept staring at me,” he says finally.**

**Roy shrugs.  “I just thought you should know that,” he says quietly.**

**“Well, Roy,” begins Meta.  “Truth is, I’ve grown to love you, too.  But I didn’t know if I was ready.  You see, I, too, have recently come out of a failed relationship.  When I fell for Lucario, I thought that he was The One.  But there were—complications.  In the end, we decided that we were better off friends.  So, I decided to make sure if I knew what I was getting into before making a commitment.  And I guess waiting paid off.”**

**Roy nearly swoons.  “I did.”**

**“I take it that you’d like to spend the day _conmigo_?”**

**“You bet I do!” crows Roy.  “Does this mean I get a kiss?”**

**“Don’t push your luck.”**

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

**_Blind Date_ **

**As soon as Corrine orders a refill of her drink, she sees her.**

**The platinum-haired woman in the bright, off-the-shoulder blue gown.  Wide, expressive blue eyes.  Flawless, glowing skin.  The ethereal grace with which she moves.  Plump, luscious lips.  Dainty hands and feet.  The wand, a daily reminder of her power as a Space Goddess.  The way she soothes her Luma before making her way to the woman in silver.**

**Rosalina, Queen of the Cosmos, mother to the Lumas, smiles at Corrine.  “Hi.  Are you my date?” she asks.**

**“Depends if your mine,” Corrine smoothly replies.  “You’re Rosalina?”**

**“I am.  And you must be Corrine.”**

**“I wonder who set us up,” smiles Corrine.  “I will gladly send them flowers.”**

**“Glad you feel that way about me,” chuckles Rosalina as she makes herself comfortable.  “So, I hear that you’re part dragon.  Is that true?”**

**“It is,” replies Corrine, “and if you’ll have me, I’ll be happy to show you my inner beast tonight.”**

**“Whoa, slow down, tigress,” says Rosalina.  “I’m usually not one to reveal my galaxy on the first date.”**

**The ladies giggle.**

**Rosalina listens as Corrine tells a little about hers and Corrin’s life.  When she finishes, she becomes the storyteller as she fills Corrinne in on ruling space itself and caring for her Lumas.**

**“You want to hear something freaky?” she asks.  “There’s a rumor that I’m Luigi’s daughter!”**

**“No way,” gasps Corrine.**

**“And that Peach is my mother,” eyerolls Rosalina.**

**“That’s impossible,” murmurs Corrine.  “Look at the age range between you.”**

**“They’re also saying that I’m secretly glad Daisy didn’t make the ballot because I could steal Luigi for myself,” huffed Rosalina.  “Daughter or crush—make up your minds, people!”**

**“Wow,” deadpans Corrine.**

**A server sets their food down in front of them.  Rosalina smiles and raises her glass.**

**“To the two of us,” she says.**

**“To the two of us,” repeats Corrine.**

**They toast and begin to eat.**

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

**_Triangle_ **

**The most romantic day of the year, and Lucina is sandwiched between two lovely ladies.**

**On her right sits Palutena, the Goddess of Light.  Her long, flowy green hair reaches her thighs, and she wears that white, strapless dress with the red trim and gold adornments.  A gold necklace hangs around her neck, and her eyes are so gentle.  They’re both trying to cope with the shake-ups involving Pittoo and have found solace in one another.  With some girly time, Palutena hopes that Lucy would be “purified” of recent events.**

**On her left sits the polar opposite, Bayonetta, the Umbra Witch.  Her raven hair is in a nice pixie cut, her eyes shine mischievously behind her glasses.  She’s in a different uniform, one which provides a nice peep at her chest, as well as the low cut down her back.  In the wake of recent events, an unlikely friendship has formed between these two, and Bayo encourages Lucy to let out her “wicked” side.**

**The three ladies take casual bites of their food, but it’s clear that Palutena and Bayo are hungry for more than what’s on their plate.  Lucina blushes over being the center of such attention.  She can smell these two polar opposites, vying for her, and it makes her—excited.  It’s perfectly okay for them to “accidentally” brush their shoulders against hers or wind up with their hair against her cheek.  Palutena trails light fingers through Lucy’s hair, and there’s Bayo’s hand teasing her thigh.  Should she let one or both slide a little bit closer to her until their bodies are almost touching?  Should she let their hands wander a little more, given that they’re in public?  They’re being covert enough, and the booth where they sit is sufficiently hidden from view.  Bayo and Palutena are exchanging these glances over Lucy’s head, and there’s no question that they’ve both fallen for the same woman.**

**Too bad she can’t have them both.**

**Can she?**

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

**_Wedding Bells_ **

**Decorations of pink, red and white festoon the auditorium.  A white archway decorated with flowers is situated at one end of the room.  Chairs have been arranged to create an “aisle” of sorts.  On those chairs sit some Smashers, dressed in their most formal attire.  Even Koopa is wearing a plus-sized suit and tie.**

**Master Hand hover over a book under the archway, ready to perform the ceremony.  To one side, Daisy, the maid of honor, stands with the bridesmaids, Peach, Robin, Corrine, some female Villagers, the female Wii Fit Trainer and some Miis who are close friends of the bride.  And to the other, Luigi, the best man, clad in his “casino” suit, waits with the groomsmen, Mario, Reflet, Corrin, Captain Falcon, Little Mac and other close friends of the groom.**

**The twin doors open, the bridal march plays, and the guests rise to honor the bride.**

**On the arm of her father, Pat, the still slightly shocked bride, Mandy, strides gracefully down the aisle.  She wears a sleek, bold, sleeveless wedding gown with touches of red and pink on it.  Her hair is in bouncy ringlets, and her face is nicely dolled up.  She turns her eyes to her groom, Evan, clad in a dapper tux.  He gives her a charming, high-wattage smile.**

**Pat and Mandy reach the archway.**

**“Who gives this woman to be wed?” asks Master Hand.**

**“I do,” replies Pat.  “Patrick Cashman Rochelle.”**

**Pat kisses Mandy on the cheek and tears up as he allows her to join her groom.  He gives Evan the “I’m watching you” gesture before heading to his seat.**

**“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today, to witness the joining of this man, Evan Vidad, and this woman, Amanda Rochelle, in holy matrimony,” says Master.  “If anyone can show just cause as to why these two should not be wed, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”**

**Thankfully, nothing.**

**Master turns to Evan.  “Evan, do you take Amanda to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold; will you love her, honor her, comfort and keep him, for richer or poorer, for better or worse, in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?”**

**“I do,” responds Evan with a sniff.**

**“Amanda, do you take Evan to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold; will you love him, honor him, comfort and keep him, for richer or poorer, for better or worse, in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?”**

**“I do,” chokes out Mandy.**

**“Rings, please,” says Master.**

**Kirby, the ring-bearer, floats up with the two rings on a crimson pillow.**

**“With this ring, I thee wed,” says Evan as he slides his grandmother’s ring onto Mandy’s finger.**

**“With this ring, I thee wed,” says Mandy as she slides her great-grandfather’s ring onto Evan’s finger.**

**They clasp hands as Zelda and Link say the blessings of Nayru and Farore, respectively, over the couple.  Lucina comes next and says the blessings of Naga over them.**

**At last, Master says his final piece.**

**“By the power vested in me by our Lord God, by the realm of Subspace and by Nintendo, I hereby pronounce you man and wife.  You may kiss the bride.”**

**Evan does just that.**

**Master Hand turns to the rest of the congregation.**

**“Smashers, I present Mr. and Mrs. Evan Vidad!”**

**“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Crazy Hand sings out.  “Drinks all around!”**

**Everyone looks at him quizzically.**

**“…or not,” mutters Crazy off of their looks.**


	21. The Usual Suspects: 5+1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five times, Fox and Captain Falcon tried to downplay their earlier cockiness. One time, they accepted the hard truth.

**One**

            Following Evan and Mandy’s wedding, the situation in Smash returned to some degree of normalcy.  Master Hand went back to investigating the cyberbullying epidemic and looking into what might had happened in the past.  So far, he’d cleared Pikachu, Kirby, Yoshi, Jigglypuff and Mario of any wrongdoing in 1999.  For 2001, Sheik and Peach turned up clean.  For 2008, Meta Knight, Olimar, Diddy Kong and Zero Suit Samus were in the clear.  Which left Captain Falcon, Fox and Falco.

            Master Hand knew that these three were heroic and normally pleasant to be around.  But perhaps they let their high ranking get to their heads without them actually realizing it.  He wasn’t as concerned with Falco as he was with Falcon and Fox, since the avian was known to be quite brash at times.  But in the first tournament, Fox and Falcon acted like they owned the place—and they weren’t even at the very top.  Falcon, especially, was cocky and swaggering, especially if he had too much to drink.  Master remembered the little incident he’d witnessed between Falcon and Luigi, something he’d never confronted either about.  But Falcon had insisted that those days were behind him.  It was true—he was best buddies with the man in green now.  Which begged the question—if he hadn’t been nerfed, then would he have changed his attitude?

            And then there was Fox.  The King of Melee.  The poster boy of 20XX.  While in 1999 was a bit overly confident, in 2001, he acted like he was untouchable.  He’d overheard him boating about how he’d “dethroned” Kirby and Pikachu.  True, his waveshining, shine-spiking, quick mobility, lightning-fast attacks and seemingly endless approaching, combo-ing, recovery and damaging opportunities made him close to impossible to beat, but he wasn’t completely impervious.  It was something he had to learn the hard way when he lost to a few mid and lower tier fighters.  Luigi had been one of them.

            If memory served, Falco wasn’t that much of a big deal.  Sure, he was right up with Fox in the “20XX” business, but he was still a Fox clone.  A faux pas during Adventure Mode, forcing him to use a continue, had quickly cured him of his overconfidence.  By the end of Melee, he and Luigi had a close working relationship.

            After his musings, Master Hand decided to clear Falco.

            Now, about those other two…

 

**Flashback: 1999**

            The piece of paper slid out of the printer and into Master Hand’s waiting fingers.  He turned the warm paper over and examined it.

            It was the first tier list, in all of its glory.

            Leisurely, Master floated out of his office and down several hallways, passing the rooms of some Smashers as he went.  In the main hall, he stopped and put the list up onto the big bulletin board.  Then, he nodded and turned away, failing to notice the red-clad hero watching from afar.

            When he was certain that Master had gone, Mario went up to the bulletin board, half-humming the Ground Theme from _Super Mario Bros._   He skimmed his finger down the tier list till he stopped at his picture.

            “Hmm,” he murmured.  Seventh place, huh?  Well, seven _was_ a lucky number.  Though he wasn’t as high as he hoped, it would have to do.

            “Okeydokey,” Mario said energetically.  He was about to turn to leave when something else occurred to him.

            Mario traced all the way down the tier list, and at the very bottom…

            “Whoa!” he exclaimed as his eye and finger fell on Luigi’s picture.  They put him dead last?!  But—he’d fought well so far, and he made sure to follow up his combos with his fiery uppercut.  Why was he so low?  His traction?  His mobility and approach issues?  His falling speed?  He came here to make something of himself, and now look what happened!  His already-low morale was going to take a serious hit regarding this.

            Should he tell him before word got out?  Help him process what Sakurai and Co. thought of him?  Comfort him and try to make him see the tier list in a positive light?  No doubt, once Luigi saw it and found out that Mario already knew, he’d be hurt that his own brother would keep secrets from him.  It was like choosing between the lesser of two evils.  Faced with this impossible choice, Mario had only this to say:

            “Mamma mia!”

 

_Later…_

            “Are you kidding me?!  Last place?!”

            Luigi was beside himself as the reality stood unflinchingly before him.  He had to hand it to Mario—he’d tried to prepare him.  He’d warned him that he’d seen the tier list and that he was ranked pretty low.  He just didn’t expect to find himself at the very bottom.  He was going to remember that little lie by omission the next time they met on the battlefield.

            “Excuse me!  Coming through!” yelled Mario as he pushed his way through the crowd to reach his brother.  They locked eyes, and Mario knew it was useless to try and pretend.

            “I wanted to tell you,” Mario said softly.

            “I know.”

            And then Luigi was in the comfort of his brother’s arms.  Around them, the upper tiers celebrated and the lower tiers fulminated.  Then, Yoshi broke away, seeing his “mother’s” deflated state, and nuzzled his shoulder.

            “Yoshi?”

            “No, I’m not mad at you,” Luigi assured the dinosaur, patting his chin.  “I don’t even know who I want to be mad at.”

            “I don’t care what this thing says,” said Mario.  “I think you are a strong fighter.”

            “Thanks, Mario.”

            Mario and Yoshi watched as Luigi gravitated toward the other “C” tiers to commiserate with them.

 

_Still later…_

            Kirby floated into the lounge, a tray of ice-cream sundaes in his arms.  Before him, he saw a sight he hoped to fix.

            The Smashers, once uncaring of where they sat, now grouped at different tables.  Each tier had their own table, it seemed.  Well, Kirby and his new friend, Pikachu, didn’t like that idea.  The tier list didn’t mean that they couldn’t sit together anymore!  That was just plain mean!

            Placing the tray onto the table he normally shared with Pikachu, Kirby looked out to where the “C” tiers sat, talking intimately.  It was only natural for them to band together to survive.  Kirby lifted a sundae from the tray and floated his way to the “C” tier table.  There, he held out the sundae to the first person he saw—Luigi.

            “Poyo,” Kirby said with a smile.

            Slowly, suspiciously, Luigi reached out and took the sundae.  After all, a higher tier didn’t offer something to a lower tier unless there was a catch.  Here, the catch was relatively small—Kirby invited him to join him and Pikachu at their table.

            “Thank you,” nodded Luigi as he followed Kirby to the “S” tier table and took a seat.

            Mario and Jigglypuff turned and watched, mesmerized, as Kirby held the tray of ice-creams out to the other “C” tiers.  “Poyo, poyo, poyo!” he called to them.

            Ness was the next person to sidle over, accepting a sundae with an “Okay!”

            He was followed by Link, a grateful smile on his lips.

            Rolling her eyes and smiling, Samus got up and lumbered over to join them.

            DK made happy ape noises as he ambled over.

            Mario beamed.  “That was a very considerate thing to do, Kirby,” he praised softly.

            “Poyo!” squealed Kirby, indicating the remaining empty seats.  Mario and Jigglypuff stood up and made themselves comfortable at Kirby’s table, beside Luigi and Pikachu, respectively.

            “Yoshi!”  The green dino hopped over to sit next to the Mario Bros.

            Kirby giggled gleefully.  His plan had worked.  The Smashers were sitting at one big table again, as they should be.

            Well, _almost_ all of them.

            The moment was broken by Falcon and Fox making a pompous, gratuitously loud entrance.

            “Hey, Kirby!  Don’t forget to save some for the winners!” crowed Falcon.

            “Whoo!  It’s time to celebrate!” joined in Fox.

            “Poyo, poyo!” Kirby said sharply.

            “Kirby’s right!” said Link.  “We’re all winners here!”

            “And we _are_ celebrating!” added Mario.  “Celebrating being together!”

            “I’m sure Kirby will hook you up if you ask nicely,” said Ness.

            “Pfft, you can have those little sundaes,” said Falcon.  “There are some bad apples in this bunch, and my new friend and I don’t want to hang around with them.  C’mon, Fox, let’s get some nachos!”

            As they sidled up to the counter to order their nachos, Luigi stared intently after them.  Look at those two!  Prancing around like famous celebrities, making big shows of walking into a room as if to say, “We are the best of the best; stop what you’re doing a pay your respects to us!”  Kirby and Pikachu, the top tiers, didn’t mind sharing their space with lower tiers, and yet Falcon and Fox were too “good” for that?!  Their attitude was sickening.

            “Yoshi, what are you doing over there?” called Fox.  “Come hang with us!”

            “Yoshi!” the dino stated firmly.

            “Oh, whatever!” eyerolled Falcon, loudly crunching on his nachos.

            The other table finished off their sundaes, thanked Kirby for his generosity and departed the lounge to get on with their day.  Luigi was the last to go, staring hungrily at the full-of-it, fabulous me racer and vulpine.

 

**Flashback End**

            Falcon sat at a table outside Brewster’s Café, sipping a strawberry daiquiri.  As of late, the racer had given himself some time to dwell on the past.  When Master Hand announced the shutdown of Miiverse and privately confronted the high tiers of tourneys past, he’d been confident that his past ego had been swept under the rug.  But in the days following reports of the bullies’ militant actions, he was no longer so sure.  He had a big ego back in the day, but he was certainly no bully.  Bullies aimed to hurt people.  Falcon had just wanted to joke around.  So, why was this guilt weighing on him?

            “Nice day, isn’t it, Douglas?”

            Falcon looked up.  “Hey, Fox.  Thank you for coming,” he said.

            The vulpine smiled and sat in the chair across from the racer.  “You look a bit troubled,” he said.  “What’s up?”

            “I dunno,” sighed Falcon.  “I guess our talk with MH brought up some stuff.”

            “You mean the tier list business?” asked Fox.

            “Yup.  Falcon—memories.”

            “I feel you, bro,” murmured Fox.  “We were wild and foolish, and I honestly thought those days were behind us.  I never really saw myself as a _bully_.  Did you?”

            “No.  It was just harmless fun.  Like the Villagers these days,” said Falcon.  “Just enough to—you know.”

            “Well, we did go after Luigi more than the other C tiers,” Fox pointed out, “and you were making eyes at Samus, who was a C-tier.”

            “But we didn’t hurt him like the others hurt him,” said Falcon.  “Besides, once all was said and done, he forgave us.  All he wanted to do was break the stigma which came from being last all the time.”

            “But has he _really_ forgiven us?” asked Fox.  “Or did he just say that to help himself—and us—move on from it?”

            “Granted, L is a fireball in these tournaments,” said Falcon, “but he’s willing to forgive if one admits responsibility for their actions.”

            Fox stroked his chin.  “Yeah—I think we’re good with him,” he said finally.  “Our chemistry on and off the battlefield has improved significantly.  It’s the ones who never change who need to watch out.”

            “Yes!” said Falcon.  “I knew there was nothing to worry about.  FALCON—RELIEVED!”

            “I feel relieved, too,” said Fox.  “Let’s eat!”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

**Two**

            A week and a half had gone by.  Evan and Mandy were still on their honeymoon at Delfino Plaza.  Often, they’d come out to watch the battles that took place while soaking up some sun.  But they were the least of Master Hand’s worries right now.

            “YES!”

            Douglas appeared in his office, Fox right next to him.

            “Do you always have to do that?” eyerolled Master.

            “What?  It’s stylish!” balked Falcon.  “So, what brings us here, MH?”

            “Oh, nothing,” Master said casually.  “Care for a drink?  You both look like you could use one.”

            “Don’t mind if I do,” said Fox as he sauntered over to Master’s minibar.

            As Falcon poured himself a strong one, he became conscious of the low music on Master’s stereo.  It was a tune he knew all too well.

            “Hey, MH, do you mind switching that off for a spell?” he asked.  “If we’re going to chat, then that’s going to be distracting.”

            Master gave the Captain a wry look.  “Is it distracting you—or guilt-tripping you?”

            Douglas knocked back half of his drink.  “Where did you get those tunes, anyway?”

            “I have my ways,” replied Master.  “Please, have a seat.”

            Fox and Falcon sat before the giant glove.  The racer shifted uncomfortably as Master slightly turned up the volume.

            “I do understand your confusion as to how ‘The Rocky Road to Dublin’ would fit well with a tournament,” he said, “but it looks like you’ve found some good ways.  Especially you, Douglas.”

            “Falcon—confused.  What are you getting at?” asked the racer.

            “Perhaps you’d like to know how my investigation is going,” said Master.  “The Miiverse debacle brought up some questions about what may have taken place well before then.  The other top-tiers have successfully pleaded their innocence.  But I still have my doubts about you, Captain Falcon, and you too, Fox.”

            “What do you mean?  We don’t bully people!” whined Fox.

            “You don’t, now.  But late, late at night, when everyone else is asleep, I’ve started to have unsettling memories involving you two.”

            Falcon and Fox looked at each other.

            “Look, MH, being at the top is something to be happy and proud of,” said Falcon.  “We probably boasted over it a little too much, but other than that, nothing serious happened.”

            “Yeah,” said Fox.  “We were just fooling around.”

            “I see why you want me to turn the music off,” said Master, turning the volume up once more.  “Some unpleasant memories are coming back.  Aren’t they, Douglas?”

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Falcon stated defensively.

            “Oh?  Then would you mind telling me what might have happened between you and Luigi on the day the first tier list came out?” quizzed Master.  “I distinctly remember this song playing during the affair.”

            “Nothing,” Falcon said quickly.  “It was nothing.  I was just inviting him to show his moves, that’s all.”

            “Yeah.  No biggie,” added Fox.

            “No biggie?  Judging by the look I saw on Luigi’s face, it was definitely a biggie.  You must’ve made him quite upset.”

            “Well, we made our peace, didn’t we?” asked Falcon.  “Look, what happened has happened.  Let’s not waste each other’s time talking about this.”  He glanced at his watch.  “Uh-oh.  I have a match coming up.  Gotta run.”

            “Yeah—er—me, too,” said Fox.

            “Yes!” yelled Falcon as the door closed after them.

            “Trust me,” said Master.  “I _will_ find out eventually.”

 

**Flashback: 1999**

            It was late in the afternoon.  The twelve Smashers were enjoying some R&R before the last wave of the day’s matches.  Falcon and Fox were still hyped up from their placement on the tier list and had decided to celebrate with a few drinks.

            The two were in the Captain’s room, rocking out to a cover of the F-Zero Theme.  The music was blasting obnoxiously loud, prompting disgruntled cries from some neighboring fighters.

            “Yes!  Is this living the dream or what?” crowed Falcon.

            “Oh, yeah!  Living the dream, pal!” chuckled Fox.  “Got any more?”

            “How about some peppermint schnapps?”

            “Taking a walk on the wild side, are we?”

            “Hey, Fox?”

            “Yeah?”

            “Schnapps!”

            They burst out laughing.

            Then, the two proceeded to get thoroughly plastered, sloppily singing along to the tunes on the radio.  A disaster waiting to strike…

 

_Meanwhile…_

            Luigi was a different type of drinker.  While most enjoyed throwing back shot after shot, he took a little more time with his drinks.  Instead of gulping, he sipped.  Slow, gentle sips of his Poppin’ Purple Tanqueray, followed by a few bites of food, to control that tipsy feeling.  His eyes were still clear, his coordination was okay, he could move without staggering and could speak without slurring.  He knew when to stop before he even started.  His drink was sugary, sour and satisfying.  He almost forgot that he was at the very bottom of the tier list.  Maybe it wasn’t the end of the world, after all.

            All around him were signs of a good time.  Pikachu, Kirby and Yoshi were playing darts.  DK and Mario played charades with some Polygons.  Ness and Samus were playing cards.  Jigglypuff, Link and some more Polygons danced to the music.  Luigi took a longer sip and then licked his lips, breathing in the positive energy surrounding him.  He saw Yoshi leaving the darts game to join in the dancing.  After a while, Ness, Mario and DK followed suit, while Samus ventured over to Kirby and Pikachu to invite one of them for a dance.  It wasn’t long before Luigi was on the dance floor, drink in hand, writhing wildly to the driving rhythm.  Vocals, drums, synth and other raucous noises rattled through his body.  His refreshing drink was starting to splash, yet he continued to move, losing himself in the demanding beat.  He hadn’t danced like this in what seemed like forever.  The other occupants egged him on, and he responded by dancing harder, faster—shutting out everything else in his mind until his breathing grew a bit ragged and his throat began to smart.

            He headed back to his seat and ordered a refill of his drink, graduating from sips to small gulps.  At this point, he was starting to feel the tingle of the liquor, a daring feeling and a desire to cut loose washing over him.  He took his refilled drink back to the dance floor and busted moves more vigorously than ever, earning whoops of approval.  His hips worked, and his free arm swayed above his head.  He couldn’t tell if the moistness on him was sweat, his spilling drink or both.  Eyes closing, the purple drink flopping and leaving kisses on his eyelids and eyelashes, Luigi threw himself into the riff, thinking of what could possibly make this more exciting.

            The song faded out, another one taking its place.  Luigi danced, slid and undulated through a few more songs before exiting the floor and sitting back down, breathing deeply.  His head cleared, as if blurry glasses were removed from his eyes, the A.C. quickly drying the moisture covering him.  He flipped a few G to the bartender refilling his drink.  Today was better than he expected, indeed.

            “Hey!  Hey, hey!”

            Two very intoxicated people were stumbling into the room.

            “Where is he?  The last-place loser?  You’re the bottom of the food chain, buddy!”

            It was as if someone hit the pause button.  The dancing and partying halted, even the music, transitioning from one song to the next.

            “Somebody here had better explain the pecking order to him, because it’s not fun and games anymore!”

            Douglas and Fox stood in the doorway, swaying on their feet, arms around each other.

            “Are you guys drunk?” Mario calmly asked.

            “What?  We’re not allowed to indulge in guilty pleasures?” hiccupped Fox.

            “Guys, the matches aren’t over yet!  You can’t fight like this!” squealed Jigglypuff.  “Puff!”

            “You’d better have a good explanation to Master Hand for this,” added Samus.  “And Douglas, flirting and drinking do not mix.”

            Slowly, Luigi traced his finger round the rim of his glass, the images of Falcon and Fox reflecting off of it.

            “C’mon, you n—b!  You can’t hide from us!  Let’s see how low you are!” bellowed Falcon.

            Luigi tipped back his glass and allowed the last of the concoction to pour down his throat.  Then, instead of tossing it like they did in the movies, he gently set the empty glass back down on the counter.  Steadily, he swiveled around and stood, his eyes caustic blue sparks.  On his face was a look usually reserved for Koopa Troopas, Hammer Bros and a certain reptilian king with a fetish for kidnapping peachy princesses.

            All of the Polygons in the room started clapping for Luigi, with the other “C” tiers joining in shortly thereafter.

            Luigi’s still-clear eyes burned into the two interlopers as he rolled up his sleeves.

            “Yes!  Time to settle this like men!” said Douglas.  “If you’re even capable of doing _that_!”

            As Fox hung back and shouted dares, the racer charged forward.

            And then the music started back up, an oldie but goodie this time.

            Licking traces of his beverage from his lips, Luigi met Douglas in the middle of the floor, focusing rock-solid punches on his body.  The guy was so plugged to the gills that his movements were clumsy and uncoordinated.  He could easily jump out of his reach.  Dancing left, dancing right, easily making the Captain lose his balance and then dashing in and punishing heavily.  Some good ones here and there, a few behind the ears, a nice bunch over the ears, a kick or two, maybe—and a quick stream of fireballs at the face.  But a few moments in, Luigi understood that Falcon needed a little more convincing.

               Judging by the trouble Douglas was now in, Luigi expected Fox to dash to his rescue.  But, nay.  He showed no interest in backing up his words with actions.  And even if he did, it would be impossible, what with Mario restraining the vulpine in a tight grip and all.  Despite his immobility, Fox continued to shout cocky things, with Mario calling out to his little bro.

            More raucous shouts joined theirs.

            By some strange stroke of luck, Falcon managed to answer back with a few strikes, making Luigi’s jaws snap together and his forehead sing.  But he’d show him.  He didn’t fold as easily as people thought.  Tuning out his opponent’s obnoxious yells, Luigi darted right back in his face, unleashing a quadruple-whammy with a side of mess-with-me.  To be honest, he was surprised that he reacted to this like he had.  He’d held himself in and played the role of the loyal sidekick for years.  Now, with the big middle finger from Sakurai and Co. still fresh in his mind combined with two high-tiers thinking they were royalty, he was finally going to let it manifest.

            It felt finger-licking good.

            Falcon howled with pain and intoxicated laughter, egging Luigi on, expecting to be met with a tidal wave of fury.  He didn’t get it, as Luigi settled for defensive maneuvers and throwing fireballs until he had the guy reeling again.  Douglas changed that but quick when he grabbed a tumbler and flung its contents into Luigi’s face.  The distracted man was then the recipient of two blinding punches to the face, a knee to either side of his body and a flurry of strikes followed by an uppercut which made his face meet the ground.

            O—kay.  That was it.  That.  Was.  Freaking.  It.  The man in green was going to make sure that the racer got more from this than a hangover.  He hopped back up and stared daggers at the man across from him, who had his arms spread wide, taunting derisively and saying something about showing moves.

            Moves were exactly what he got.

            Luigi waited, doing exactly the opposite of what the drunk-off-his-butt fellow wanted him to, and effortlessly interceded the charge, turning the tide back in his favor and fulfilling the good Captain’s request to show moves.  He continued to take some as well as give some, but the pain on his features was like a camera flash—gone in an instant.  That Poppin’ Purple Tanqueray was a Poppin’ Purple Power-Up.  He only knew the strangely fitting as well as unfitting music, the crowd roaring, Douglas shouting drunkenly and the fact that he wasn’t going to take this disrespect anymore.  The back of his mind warned him that Master Hand would walk in on this.  Well, let him!

            The scrap went shamelessly on, the tune and the cheering and yelling sizzling through Luigi’s veins.  And as he continued to engage the man who tried to gang up on him, something burst open inside of him, driving him ecstatically wild and making him answer the yells around him with yells of his own, yells that carried above all else except for that crazy tune which he was certain was trying to take him over.

 **While in the merry month of May from me home I started,**  
Left the girls of Tuam so sad and broken hearted,  
Saluted father dear, kissed me darling mother,  
Drank a pint of beer, me grief and tears to smother,  
Then off to reap the corn, leave where I was born,  
Cut a stout black thorn to banish ghosts and goblins;  
Bought a pair of brogues rattling o'er the bogs  
And fright'ning all the dogs on the rocky road to Dublin.

 **One, two, three four, five,**  
Hunt the Hare and turn her down the rocky road  
all the way to Dublin, Whack follol de rah!

 **In Mullingar that night I rested limbs so weary,**  
Started by daylight next morning blithe and early,  
Took a drop of pure to keep me heartfrom sinking;  
That’s a Paddy's cure whenever he's on drinking.  
See the lassies smile, laughing all the while  
At me curious style, 'twould set your heart a bubblin'  
Asked me was I hired, wages I required,  
I was almost tired of the rocky road to Dublin.

 **One, two, three four, five,**  
Hunt the Hare and turn her down the rocky road  
all the way to Dublin, Whack follol de rah!

 **In Dublin next arrived, I thought it such a pity**  
To be soon deprived a view of that fine city.  
So then I took a stroll, all among the quality;  
Me bundle it was stole, all in a neat locality.  
Something crossed me mind, when I looked behind,  
No bundle could I find upon me stick a wobblin'  
Enquiring for the rogue, they said me Connaught brogue  
Wasn't much in vogue on the rocky road to Dublin.

 **One, two, three four, five,**  
Hunt the Hare and turn her down the rocky road  
all the way to Dublin, Whack follol de rah!

 **From there I got away, me spirits never falling,**  
Landed on the quay, just as the ship was sailing.  
The Captain at me roared, said that no room had he;  
When I jumped aboard, a cabin found for Paddy.  
Down among the pigs, played some hearty rigs,  
Danced some hearty jigs, the water round me bubbling;  
When off Holyhead I wished meself was dead,  
Or better for instead on the rocky road to Dublin.

 **One, two, three four, five,**  
Hunt the Hare and turn her down the rocky road  
all the way to Dublin, Whack follol de rah!

 **Well the boys of Liverpool, when we safely landed,**  
Called meself a fool, I could no longer stand it.  
Blood began to boil, temper I was losing;  
Poor old Erin's Isle they began abusing.  
"Hurrah me soul" says I, me Shillelagh I let fly.  
Some Galway boys were nigh and saw I was a hobble in,  
With a load "hurray !" joined in the affray.  
We quitely cleared the way for the rocky road to Dublin.

 **One, two, three four, five,**  
Hunt the Hare and turn her down  
the rocky road and all the way to Dublin,  
Whack follol de rah!

            It was Master Hand’s nonchalant voice announcing the day’s last matches which brought an end to the scuffle.

**Flashback End**

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**Three**

            “Gosh, can you remember them all?  The poop pranks, urine pranks and other bathroom pranks we pulled on him?” asked Fox.

            “I remember them well,” nodded Falcon.  And indeed, he could vividly call some to mind, from the trips to the toilet stall, carrying a bottle of chocolate syrup to explode all over the stall next to him, to squeezing a bottle of lemonade onto a leg or a shoe.  Lending a piece of toilet paper to the man next to him, smearing it with syrup.

            “We must’ve been crazy then,” mused Fox.

            “Maybe we were,” shrugged Falcon.  “But, hey, it wasn’t that bad.  We didn’t pull them in public and we didn’t make them spectacles for others to laugh at.  Just some harmless fun, yes?”

            “Yep.  Harmless fun.”

            The duo passed through the lounge, where they encountered Luigi, cheerily waving to them.  Yes, everything was just fine between them.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

**Four**

            A good detective left no stone unturned.  Relaxing in his office, Master Hand allowed the bits and pieces to swim around in his mind.  A hungover and beaten Falcon, doing all these nice things for Luigi as soon as he sobered up, offering wide-eyed apologies and pleas for forgiveness.  Surprised yelps being heard from bathrooms.  Chocolate and lemonade stains on Luigi’s clothes during Laundry Day.  And walking in one day to find the top half of the tier list covered in angry scribble, Italian swear words written all over it.

            “YES!”

            “Falcon, for goodness sake!” yelped Master.

            “So I just talked to Luigi, and he told me that he’d love to have me as an ally in a Team Battle,” announced Falcon.  “Then, he invited me and Fox to lunch!”

            “And you’re telling me this because…”

            “I’m presenting proof that whatever happened in Smash 64 is staying in Smash 64,” said Douglas.  “FALCON—VINDICATED!”

            Master could only gape as the racer sauntered out of the office.

 

**Flashback: 1999**

            The racer smirked at his opponent as they stood on opposite ends of the stage.  Luigi was on a platform, just off from the main area, and behind him was open space.  He stayed there, knowing what Falcon was poised to do and seeing how it would work out.

            “Show me ya moves!” challenged Falcon before running full-steam toward the plumber.

            Annoyance and amusement colored Luigi’s face.  He readied a punch as…

            “FALCON—KICK!”

            Unfortunately, due to the high momentum of the move, Falcon overshot his target and couldn’t recover in time.  Down he went.

            Steam rose from his ears as he respawned.  “You were lucky,” he said, “but I’ll get you this time!”

            _Go on.  Make sure your aim is right, so I can Super Smash that smug look off your face_.

            “Show me ya moves!”  With those words, Douglas launched another attack at Luigi, but like last time, he overshot him and plummeted helplessly down.

            Two more self-destructs later, the words “GAME SET!” sealed the racer’s fate.

            “Ugh—what happened?”

            Luigi’s face was carefully frozen.  “What do you think?  You SD’d, and I won.”

            “Self-destructed?”

            “Four times,” Luigi icily added.

            “Falcon—mope.  I should’ve watched where I was going.”

            “Instead of taunting ‘the last-place loser’ about showing moves?”  Falcon saw that look.  He made a point.

            “Yeah, maybe I got a little carried away.  I’m sorry.”

            “I know.  I was so close to having you, too.”  A small smile quirked Luigi’s face.  “Tell you what—how about a rematch tomorrow?”

            “Yes!”

            “I knew you’d like that.”  That was when the seriousness came back.  “But don’t think for one second that I’ll go easy on you.”

            “Of course.”

 

**Flashback End**

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

**Five**

            “Trust me, if you have something nagging at you, then you should own up,” Fox was saying to Falcon over the phone.  “It’ll not only advance your relationships with MH and Luigi, but also with—her.”

            “Hey, how’d you know about us?”

            “You’ve flirted with her since the first go-round.  Look, she probably caught on to whatever mischief you were up to.  If you don’t get it off your chest, you’ll irritate her.”

            “You give surprisingly good relationship advice,” Falcon said cordially.  “I’ll think about it, okay, Fox?”

            “Okay.  See you round.”  Fox hung up and sidled to his window, where he stared outside, his mind drifting…

 

**Flashback: 1999**

            “Guys!  I’m being clobbered down here!”  Fox shouted into his comm link, in the midst of a furious one-on-one with Luigi atop the Great Fox.

            “A wise decision not to bring me along, eh, Fox?” deadpanned Falco.

            “Falco!  I asked you time and time again if you wanted me to bring you an application, and you said you weren’t up to it!” retorted Fox as he rolled out of the range of his foe’s fireballs and took cover behind the rear wing, shooting away with his Blaster.

            “I’ve been in close hand-to-hand combat with this guy for the past fifteen minutes,” he explained to his team.  “He’s giving me everything he’s got!”

            “Like I said I would!” Luigi’s voice called to him.

            “How’s that Blaster working out?” wondered Slippy.

            “Cheap thing!  No flinching, no sign of a wound or anything!” wailed Fox.  He used Firefox as a quick getaway to a safer area and brought his Reflector into play before knocking Luigi aside with a good kick.  “He’s stronger than I thought!”

            “I thought you knew that,” mumbled Luigi as he struggled to his feet.

            “Hey, Fox!  I’ll get you out of this!” Peppy said cheerily.  “Do a barrel roll!”

            “Oh, come on…!”

            A sudden blow knocked Fox sprawling, his earpiece skittering away.  Before he could retrieve it, Luigi snatched it up and spoke into it.

            “Better get in next time, Falco.”

            And then he chucked the thing off the end of the stage.

            “What?  I needed that!”

            “No, you don’t,” Luigi said firmly.  “Technically, that’s cheating.”

            Fox drew his Blaster, but had only squeezed off a few shots when Luigi sent it twirling from his fingers and into oblivion.  “I told you your handy space gadgets won’t get past me,” he said.  “Now, what do you say to getting a little closer in?”

            Fox took him up on his offer, but even with his martial-arts style attacks, he couldn’t penetrate Luigi’s defenses.  Before long, he found himself clinging to the fuselage of his starship for dear life.

            “No!  I am _not_ losing to the worst character in the game!”

            Realizing that he’d spoken that thought aloud, Fox dared to look up.

            Luigi stood there, looking down at him with wounded doe eyes, fists half-unclenched in shock.  Slowly, he walked forward till he was balanced on the edge, and Fox could hardly look away from the unbridled malevolence meeting him.

            “Classy, McCloud.  Very classy,” Luigi said in a monotone voice.  “Why did you have to bring that up?”

            “L, that slipped out.  I’m sorry…”

            “Fine, I forgive you.  But just to make sure that doesn’t happen again…”

            He crossed his arms behind his back and bashfully kicked the ground, meteor-smashing Fox off the stage.

 

**Flashback End**

            Fox turned on the TV and found one of the channels showing the matches in progress.  Maybe the tier list _did_ make him assign a value to himself.  And that was glaringly true in Melee, when he considered himself too “cool” for hanging out with those lower on the tier list.  He nearly alienated himself from Luigi, to be honest.  The plumber surely knocked that into him during a Corneria battle toward the end of Melee, when he had the vulpine trapped in an area of the Great Fox popularly denoted “the House of Pain”.  True to its moniker, Luigi had used the back wing to infinitely combo Fox.  He distinctly recalled the guy getting quite—emotional—during it.  And then there were the times when Fox’s speed and light weight led to embarrassing self-destructs.  In the years between Melee and Brawl, Fox had conceded that maybe he was a bit OP and considered it just that he was nerfed in the 2008 tournament.

            But he’d taken the opportunity to change his ways.  He wasn’t like those other bullies—right?

            Right?

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**+One**

            “Aw, who are we kidding?” Falcon finally said after some debating with Fox.  “The way we were back then, we were no better than those bullies.”

            “Thinking about it—no, we weren’t,” said Fox.

            “I guess this means that we’d better let the cat out of the bag,” sighed Falcon.

            “It’s best for all of us,” agreed Fox.

            Seconds later, they rushed into Master Hand’s office, where they spilled everything.  The practical toilet jokes.  Their “better-than-everyone-else” attitude.  The self-destructs brought on by such an attitude.  And Falcon provoking a fistfight with Luigi on that fateful day.

            “Truly, we’re very sorry about that,” finished Fox.  “How can we make up for what we’ve done?”

            Master Hand, a bit bewildered by the flurries of confessions, gave them a sly look.  “I know a good way to start,” he said.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Captain Falcon and Fox made their way to Luigi’s room, where he sat by the window, splattered with paint, doing some artwork.

            “L, that’s a marvelous piece you’re working on,” said Fox.

            Luigi turned.  “Oh.  Hey, you two.”

            Falcon cleared his throat.  “Look,” he began.  “We’re sorry about everything we did back in the day.  You know, the pranking and the taunting and that little ‘incident’ that afternoon.  We acted like total jerks, and we regret that, every moment.  But, we just want you to know—we’re different people now.  We respect you and we hold you among the best.”

            “You really mean that?” asked Luigi.

            “We do,” intoned Fox.

            The plumber blushed.  “That was a thoughtful and sweet gesture,” he said, “but I managed to move past that a long time ago.  Still, it was nice to hear you say it.  But I wonder—was it being nerfed that made you change?”

            “Part of it, yes,” said Fox, “but the other part was you.  We kind of pushed you away doing all of that.”

            “You really did,” Luigi said solemnly.  “I’m glad you saw the hint where nobody else did.”

            “Well, we’re glad we could clear that up,” said Fox.  “Time for us to get going.  Take care, L!”

            “You, too,” beamed Luigi.

            They hugged, and the vulpine and the racer exited feeling almost weightless.

            “YES!!” Falcon crowed in triumph and relief.

_A few days later…_

            “Case closed,” smiled Master Hand as he finally crossed Fox and Douglas off the list of suspects.  “Now we can finally narrow down our search, and that’s a good thing.”

            “It was about time,” said Crazy Hand.  “I was starting to tune out for a second.”

            “Glad to know that it wasn’t as far back as we thought,” added Master Core.

            They were about to toast to a checkpoint in their investigation when a Mii ran inside, her face pale.

            “What is it?” asked MC.

            “Sirs,” stated the Mii.  “We called role three times and searched all of the Training Rooms and outside areas, but we still couldn’t find him.”

            “Who?” asked Crazy.

            “Luigi,” said the Mii.  “He’s—gone!”

            The three bosses exchanged looks. 

            “Oh, no,” groaned Master.  “God help us all.”

           


	22. Mysterious Journey

            “So—you just left?  Without as much as a goodbye?”

            The honeymooners, Mandy and Evan, relaxed on lounge chairs, sipping drinks served to them in coconut shells, regarding Luigi with childish curiosity.

            “I said goodbye to some of them,” Luigi said to them.  “Just not to the Hands.  I didn’t think they’d understand.”

            “Well, it’s nice that you’re going on a bit of a vacation,” said Mandy.

            “I’d like to call it a _working_ vacation,” clarified Luigi.  “There are things that need to be done, and little time to do them.”

            “We kind of know where you’re headed,” Evan told him.  “Just be careful, all right?  Not everyone there is your enemy.”

            “He’s right,” nodded Mandy.  “Some of them are good friends of ours, as well as likely allies.  If you see someone wearing a green beret, then you have found someone who can help you.”

            “Green beret.  Got it,” said Luigi.  “So, how’s your honeymoon?”

            “I wouldn’t trade one second of it for the world,” cooed Evan.  “We’ll probably be back in about a month or so.”

            “And who knows?  Maybe you might see one of us on your trip,” winked Mandy.

            “Hope so,” said Luigi.  “It was nice seeing you.  Good luck to you both.”

            “Thank you,” the newlyweds said as one.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            It had been three days since _it_ started back up again.  Three days since the young Luigi fan was found with bruises and scratches covering him and third-degree burns on his limbs.  Three days since the invasion of Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and YouTube.  Three days since the sabotage of a Sarasaland TV station, where the vicious hate was broadcasted for all to see.  Three days since the intrusion of a Smash radio show for the sole purpose of trolling the man in green.  And three days since he discovered that the Hands were more interested in past events than in present ones.

            Following his takedown of Kyle, Luigi had tried to be nice and “do the right thing” again.  He’d let the authorities deal with the raucous masses.  Yet they weren’t discouraged by the arrests and the police presence, continuing to do everything in their power to make his and Daisy’s lives miserable.  Then, he tried to tell the Hands, but it turned out that they were too busy sniffing around things that had happened years ago, things he’d already forgotten and forgiven.  Why Douglas was being treated like a suspect, despite what he’d done to help him, was beyond him.  And Fox—he had his moments, especially in Melee, but now he was working with Falco and the rest of the Star Fox team to track down these perps.

            So, here he was now, driving in his car, singing along with all his might to the song on his radio.  With him was a suitcase, a map, his trusty list, a cooler, some power-ups, an older brother’s blessing and a few other items he might need.  And of course, his cell phone and his Poltergust 5000, just in case.  He was just—done.  Done with being the nice guy, done with “doing the right thing”, done with being thrown under the bus, done with feeling unable to control his own situation.  It was time to break the rules, time to take matters into his own hands.

            And this time, no one would stop him.

            The sun beamed almost overhead.  Luigi adjusted his car’s shade protector to counter its glaring rays and checked himself in the rearview mirror.  His sunglasses fit him perfectly.  Skin nice and tanned, hair combed and recently trimmed, freshly shaven, mustache just the way he liked it.  He smiled and threw himself into the next song on the radio.  He was cruising on the highway, on a beautiful day with no traffic.  The view was spectacular.  His first stop was Los Angeles, California.  In the City of Angels, some halos had slipped.  And he knew exactly who those fallen angels were.

            First, however, he made a side-stop at Anaheim, the home of Disneyland, to refuel, relax and regroup.  He necked with the Disney Princesses, the oddball characters of films past and present, ate some cotton candy and tiptoed his way through a haunted house before nearly screaming his heart out on thrill rides.  Many recognized him and posed with him for photos or asked for an autograph or two, and he always blushed when they did this.  He still wasn’t quite used to the attention.

            His break was over, and it was time to continue on.  With the top down, Luigi drove the last few miles to L.A., armed with keepsakes from his brief affair with the Happiest Place on Earth.

            Before he could do anything, he needed a place to stay.  Luckily, his Smash identification card earned him a discounted room at a five-star hotel.  He took a few good minutes to gawk at his room before getting situated.  He unpacked his suitcase, hung his clothes in the closet, neatly arranged his toiletries in the bathroom and placed his snacks by the minibar.  Finally, he grabbed his shampoo and body wash and took a bath.

            And as he lathered, scrubbed and rinsed away everything he’d been through, tears began to fall.  Tears over that young Luigi fan, still in the hospital.  Tears over the indignities he and Daisy had been forced to endure.  Tears of frustration over the fact that nobody seemed to care, that nobody seemed to do enough.  And tears over the realization that despite all that had happened, those three final bosses would refuse to see things his way.

            Standing in the cool pour, the tears stilled, the water washing the stains off his face.  They were going down the drain, along with the rest of the dirtied water.  A familiar pleasant feeling replaced those tears as Luigi lathered himself up a second time, and then a third time, the sense of cleanliness increasing.  His last lather was slower than the previous two so he could cleanse _really_ deep, so he could make sure every last spot was satisfied, gasping, sighing and moaning with absolute bliss.

            When he felt ready, he turned off the shower, stepped out, and toweled off.  On came a dollop of hair conditioner, fingers working it in, before combing the hair into something presentable while blow-drying it.  He pulled on a yellow shirt and fastened a pair of green overalls.  Then a pair of polished shoes and a yellow hat with a green “L”.

            Luigi studied himself in the mirror, feeling considerably better than when he first arrived.  He’d shed his tears.  Now, it was time to shed some blood.

            He downed a bag of chips from the snack bar and was out the door.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            In an unknown location, a shirtless man straddled a life-sized Daisy plushie, his skin gleaming darker against the brightly-colored fabric, muscles working as he pounded it over and over and over again.  Warped pleasure, excitement and rage was all over his face as he decimated this plushie the way he’d decimated the plushies before it.  Once he was done nearly punching its stuffing out, he obscenely ground his body against it, saying these nasty things, before disgustingly defiling it further.  Slowly, he stood, cleaned himself up and smirked down at the destroyed plushie.

            “Now that’s more like it,” he said.

            He fetched a rope and tied it around the doll’s neck.  It would be quite a sight at tonight’s effigy burning.

            As he pulled on a shirt, the man heard the sound of slow, sarcastic applause.

            “I must say, that was quite a show you put on, buddy,” an accented voice spoke from the shadows.  “Way to express how you feel about the lovely Princess of Sarasaland.”

            The man whirled.  “Who’s there?”

            “It’s a shame that you don’t have locks on your doors,” the voice said.  “I was able to see everything, from start to finish.  And I just threw up in my mouth.”

            “Too bad,” scoffed the man.  “I say she was asking for trouble when she put her name on that Ballot.”

            “Is that so?  Then _you_ were asking for trouble when you decided to see fit to torment those close to and sympathizing with her!  Did you hear about what they did to that young one?  Do you even care?”

            “Oh, that one?  Ah, yes, we all had a very good time with him.  You should’ve heard how he screamed.”

            “ _Dio_.  You were one of them?”

            “Better,” gloated the man.  “I planned it all out.”

            “What have any of them done to deserve this?!” demanded the voice.

            “I’m allowed to express myself!” snorted the perp.  “I’m a free man!”

            “And I’m Daisy’s boyfriend.”

            With those words, Luigi dramatically revealed himself.

            The man’s sole reaction was a scornful laugh.  “Aww, isn’t this cute?  Weegee trying to defend his fair lady against her vile oppressors?”

            “Did you say ‘try’?” spat Luigi.  “I _will_ defend her!  And you’ll never touch her as long as I’m standing!”

            The man laughed again.  “Do you honestly think you’re a match for me?”  He sauntered over to a bench and picked up a tire iron.  “You humor me, so I’ll make you a deal.  Walk away, and I won’t touch your Princess.  I’ll just take her crown.”

            “Do you honestly expect me to believe you?” asked Luigi as he rolled up his sleeves.

            “So,” hissed the man.  “That’s how you want it to be.”

            “That’s how it _must_ be.”

            “Okay, you asked for it!” shouted the man as he hefted his tire iron.  “You’re going to wish you were never born!”

            “We’ll see about that,” Luigi told him as he took a fighting stance.

            He allowed the man to charge first, swinging the tire iron.  Fluidly, Luigi dodged all of the swings and answered with a high kick to the forearm.  The man staggered, allowing Luigi to bound forward and go on the offensive with karate chops, flip kicks, a downward spin kick and a fully charged forward smash.  The man kicked from the ground, but Luigi backflipped to safety and shot some fireballs.  He met the next rush with a flurry of roundhouse kicks and overhead punches and dropped to the floor for a low breakdance sweep.  Roaring in fury, the man lunged blindly, tire iron over his head, yet Luigi was faster, slamming two stunning body blows into him.  His opponent fell onto his bottom, but he still held fast to his weapon.  He stopped Luigi from following up with a kick to his face and then rolled on top of him before he could get up.  Luigi pounded on his shoulders and tried to twist free, but the man was too heavy.  Smirking, the man tsk-tsked before getting his revenge with the tire iron, landing blows all over the face and upper body.  The spectacular blows would’ve destroyed most, but the mushrooms in Luigi’s diet gave him a tougher frame.  He stopped the man’s onslaught with a blast of fire and thunder to the face, and then an elbow strike to the jaw.  The man fell back, and Luigi wasted no time straddling him and using him as a punching bag.  Even with blood spraying from the nose and mouth, the man managed to aim a blow at Luigi, knocking him off.

            They lay on the ground for a minute, recovering and re-orienting themselves.  Luigi was the first to get to his feet, tipping back his head and slurping some blood into his mouth.  Something about the tangy sweetness seemed to calm him, and he smiled at the other man currently struggling up.

            “You haven’t had enough of me, have you?” spat the man.  “Well, you’d better finish your business with me quickly before my friends come by.  Then, there will be trouble.”

            “Don’t worry—your friends don’t stand a ghost of a chance,” Luigi told him.  “Just—like—you.”

            “Come on, Greenie,” taunted the man.  “I’ll use that silly hat as a hood ornament!”

            Again, Luigi hung back, waiting for his foe to dash at him once more.  This time, he stayed close, aiming painful strikes at his arms and gut and doing full-on cyclone attacks on him.  Striking his shins with the heel of his shoe.  Clipping him over the ears.  Winding up and jabbing forward with his hand, sending the man reeling at a diagonal trajectory.  Using his fireballs to keep the tide in his favor.  And with one lucky kick, Luigi knocked the tire iron out of the man’s hands.

            “Let’s see how you do with your fists,” he said evenly.

            Luigi had to hand it to him—he was good with his fists.  Very good.  So good, in fact, that he could knock him out of the air when he was doing his aerial attacks.  But compared to the man in green, he was pretty slow.  He could easily block some of the man’s blows.  Still, Luigi took a smattering of good ones from this guy.  Perhaps if he changed his attitude, he’d offer his name for Master Hand’s consideration—once he forgave him for running off.

            But that was a situation for another time.

            Sidestepping a punch, Luigi grabbed the man and pummeled him before Ground-Pounding him, following up quickly with a short-hop down aerial, down smash and a string of karate chops ending with a Cyclone.  The man scrambled up and tried to slip behind him, paying for it dearly when an up smash hit him.  Luigi jabbed him squarely on the point of his chin and landed his trademark fiery uppercut, sending him crashing onto the ceiling and then crashing back down.

            The man lay there, groaning.  By then, Luigi had snatched up the tire iron and held it behind him as he advanced on his opponent.

            “Is that all you got?” growled the man.  “I’ve been hit harder by an old lady.”  And then he spat a mouthful of blood in Luigi’s face.

            Luigi blinked a few times before wiping the bloody spit with his sleeve.  Then, he brandished the tire iron and brought it down with all of his strength on both of his kneecaps.  Its previous owner roared in pain.  He heard the shatter, and now pain shot up both of his legs, making them twitch and jerk uncontrollably.

            “You could apologize, you know,” Luigi murmured softly, sitting astride the man.  “I know a doctor friend who can fix you right up, and you can go to Sarasaland to yield to Princess Daisy.”

            “You’re telling me what to do?  Why, you little…!”

            He swung at Luigi, who caught him by the wrist, squeezed, twisted it and then slammed the tire iron against the arm.  “It would be a poor choice to force my hand into action,” he warned.  “Now, I’m giving you a choice.  Apologize to me and Daisy, or suffer the consequences.”

            The man cursed and spat at Luigi a second time.  “I’m not sorry for any of this, and I never will be!  You two can drop dead for all I care!”

            Luigi stiffened, hurt telegraphing across his features.  “I offer you amnesty, and you choose to spit in my face?!” he balked.  “Have you no shame?”

            “I could’ve done worse, if it weren’t for your meddling,” sniffed the man.

            “Very well,” Luigi said coldly.  “If that’s the way you’re going to be, then fine.”

            He attacked the other arm with a tire iron, causing the man to roar.

            “You good-for-nothing piece of…”

            Luigi immediately cut off the intended insult, raining blow after blow at the man’s face and then his chest.  Gradually, the oaths and cries died down as blood, teeth and pieces of bone flew every which way.  He brought the weapon down again and again and again until his arms got tired.  Taking deep breaths, he got off the man and dropped the blood-spattered tire iron beside the still form.  The man’s face was in fragments, and his chest was a crimson cavity.  Luigi stared hard into the man’s eyes.  Even in death, the guy was remorseless.  The man in green crossed the room to the Daisy plushie and cut the rope loose from its neck.  The poor toy was damaged beyond repair, but he wasn’t going to let it fall victim to another burning.  The least he could do was simply chuck it into a trash can.  At least it would receive better treatment there.

            Finally, Luigi stared at the perp’s body one last time.  “Nice knowing you—Budd,” he spat.

            And then he walked away without looking back.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            A nurse walked into a hospital room, smiling brightly.  “Hey, kiddo!” she chirped.  “There’s someone special here to see you!”

            The young patient looked up and beamed as the familiar man in green approached his bedside, balloons and flowers in hand.

            “Hello, buddy!” said Luigi.  “What’s your name?”

            “Paul,” said the patient.  “I can’t believe it’s you!”

            “Hey, I’ve got to see about my fans sometime, right?” smiled Luigi.  “How are you feeling?”

            “Better,” Paul said softly.  “And you?”

            “I was sad when I heard about what happened to you,” confessed Luigi.  “I mean, why are these people going after you guys just because you support me?  It makes no sense.”

            “Well, they can’t stop us from liking you!” Paul said determinedly.  “So, they can kiss our butts!”

            “Now that’s the spirit!” beamed Luigi.  “Know this, too—everything’s going to be all right.  No matter what they do, we’re going to stick together.  You and my other fans have been there for me, and now, I’m here for you.”

            “Gosh.  Thanks, L,” smiled Paul.  “How’s Daisy doing?”

            “Oh, she’s doing fine.  She makes my stomach go flippa-floppa…”  And then he told his young fan about an early date with Daisy when they had pizza, and he tried not to put any anchovies on his.  Throughout that date, his stomach was flip-flopping about, and his head was spinning around.  This continued later that night, and Mario had chalked it up to eating anchovies, so he had to correct his big brother, explaining that it was the power of _amore_.  Then, Luigi sang “That’s Amore” to Paul, who began singing along after a while.

            “I’m happy you stopped by,” giggled Paul.  “You made me feel a whole lot better!”

            “You made me feel better, too,” nodded Luigi, “and don’t worry about those bullies.  They’re going to pay, every single one of them.”  Dropping his voice, he whispered, “I promise.” 


	23. California Dreamin'

            The punching bags here were quite sturdier than Sandbags.  They were better at taking Luigi’s blows, provided greater resistance and didn’t have those creepy, beady eyes on them.  Since the one he was training on was affixed to something, he didn’t have to chase after it.  It swung and swayed like a pendulum from where it hung, allowing him to weave left and right before attacking again.  He could switch from an offensive to a defensive position.  Come to think of it, the Training Room was in need of an upgrade!

            The huge fitness center was hopping today and practically bursting with energy.  This energy had been a siren song, calling to Luigi as he drove through the City of Angels.  He was wound tightly and needed a release before continuing his mission.  After checking in at the front desk, he’d spent two brisk minutes doing leg lunges, one minute per leg, before nearly burning himself out on the elliptical machine and bench pressing a few pounds.  Then, he turned his attention to one of those firm and heavy punching bags.  Top 40, 90s and 80s hits pounded all around the workout floor as he lit into that punching bag, pretending it was one of the Hands or one of the anti-Daisy contingent.  It felt incredibly great, working his muscles and his cardiovascular system and not having to think.  Slowly, he felt himself decompressing, the toxins and stress and emotions evanescing away, away, away.

            Before leaving his hotel room that morning, he’d sent Mario a postcard, telling him that he was doing well and that everyone else back in Subspace shouldn’t worry about him; he’d be back as soon as he could.  He would confess to the Hands when he was ready.  Speaking of them, his disappearance had left them in quite a dither.  As far as he was concerned, that was for the best.

            Luigi landed one last smash attack on the punching bag before taking a swig from his bottle of lemonade, the liquid cooling his throat.  It tasted sweet and tart, like the game of life.  He replaced the cap on the bottle in time to see someone staring at him.

            “Excuse me, sir,” said the man.  “Are you Luigi Mario?”

            “I am.”

            The man stuck out his hand.  “Name’s Val.  I’ve played the _Mario Bros_ arcade game since I was a boy.  Just wanted to say that you were really tearing it up back there.  You’re incredible!”

            “Thanks, Val,” Luigi said sheepishly.  “Did I keep you waiting?”

            “Oh, no,” Val assured him.  “I was just watching you nearly rip that bag apart.  I recognized some of your moves from that Smash Brothers thing.”

            “Are you keeping close tabs on it?” asked Luigi.

            “Heck yeah!  I’ve followed it since the first one!” exclaimed Val.  “In fact, I’ve been in the audience.  You just can’t see me where I’m sitting.”

            Luigi nodded.  “Good man,” he said.  “So, have you played any Mario games?”

            “Yeah,” said Val, “but I play yours most of all.  Yours are fun!”

            “Thank you very much,” blushed Luigi.

            “I just love it when I beat _Luigi’s Mansion_ and rescue your brother,” Val went on, “and its sequel, _Dark Moon_ , is the cat’s meow!”

            “I was so happy when I rescued Mario,” Luigi told him, “so happy that I could just dance.  Have you ever rescued anyone, Val, and then they gave you a little smoochie-smoochie on the nose and said, ‘Thank you so much for rescuing me’?  That would be nice!”

            “Yeah, but I haven’t rescued anyone in real life,” said Val.  “So, what brings you to the City of Angels, if you don’t mind my asking?”

            “I’m a plumber,” Luigi said wryly.  “I have a drain to unclog.”

            “Judging by the fury you were serving up to that punching bag, it must be one heck of a clog you’re dealing with,” winked Val.

            Luigi nodded again.  “Huge,” he said intensely.

            He reached into his pocket and pulled out a photograph.  Perhaps this trip to the gym wasn’t random, after all.

            The photo showed a group of Daisy and Luigi haters at an effigy burning.  It was one of the photos Douglas and Samus had overnighted to him during their undercover investigation.  Luigi now held that photo out to Val.  “Have you by any chance heard of this?” he asked.

            “My God.  I’ve heard it all over the news,” sighed Val.  “I’m really sorry.  You don’t deserve this, and neither does she.”

            Suddenly, he grabbed the photo away from Luigi.  “Wait a tick—I know some of these people in here!” he cried.  “I’ve done a lot of spying on the side.  These people have formed one of their group and based themselves in several major cities.  L.A. is one of them.”

            Luigi smiled.  He had a few leads from what he’d taken at Budd’s place, but it was nice to obtain more credible ones.  “It seems you’ve done your research,” he said to Val.  “Are you undercover?”

            “I’m a private investigator,” explained Val, “and as soon as this stuff broke the news, I just had to dive in.  And some of these people in this group—I’ve had past dealings with them.  I’ve traced their regular meeting spots and networks, too.  They’re serious about this, L.”

            “Wow, I’m really glad I met you,” mused Luigi, “but that doesn’t necessarily mean I trust you.  How do I know if you’re telling me the truth?”

            “Tell you what,” smiled Val.  “We’ll go to the private studio, go a few rounds.  Best of seven.  Defeat me, and I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

            Luigi’s eyes lit up.  “You’ve got yourself a deal, buddy.”

            “Of course, I like to warm up my opponents,” Val went on, “so while I get things ready in there, let’s see how well you do against six of my friends.  Ah, here they come now.”

            Luigi licked his lips, as if the six approaching men were his favorite appetizers.  He smiled angelically while they arranged themselves in a circle around him, cracking their knuckles and acting like those Miis in Multi-Man Smash, trying to frighten him but energizing him instead.

            “There’s always a catch,” Luigi said softly.

            “With your victories in Smash, you have nothing to worry about,” Val said cordially.

            “Vally, this had better be worth our time,” said one of his friends.

            “Oh, it will,” Val assured him.  “Try not to wear him down too much.  I want to make sure he gives 100% when we rendezvous.”  He then squeezed Luigi’s shoulder playfully.  “Good luck.”

            He strode over to the private studio, whistling.

            Luigi was now left alone with the six men.  And those six men meant business.  They were either shirtless or wearing tube tops to show off their marvelous muscles, flexing their arms to make said muscles bulge and trying to show the green-clad one how manly they were compared to him.  Luigi’s eyes slid from man to man, smiling at them the way he smiled at the Miis encircling them during every last round of Endless Smash, letting them think he was the easiest opponent they ever faced.

            His soft, blue eyes and broad smile never faltered, even as the sextet drew closer and closer.  He could feel his tongue drawing lazily along his lips once more as the different skin tones filled his vision.  They smelled as if they’d come fresh from a workout, and so did he.  Sheens of sweat coated their muscled skin, and as they penetrated Luigi’s comfort zone, they saw the sweat tracks on his face, his neck and his arms as his gloved fingers casually rolled green sleeves up to his shoulders.

            Now, six pairs of eyes stabbed into him as the six bulky men cut off any means of escape, six drafts of hot breath directed at his face, ears and neck.  Smells of eaten lunch.  Body heat.  Sounds of heartbeats.  Luigi’s tongue curved upwards, tracing his upper lip and then down to his lower lip as he examined his situation.  Excitement bubbled in his eyes and set his face ablaze.  He couldn’t wait to knock these guys down a peg.

            Look at them, getting all in his face like some boxers on TV.  Standing close enough to brush against his nose, to hear his brisk heartbeat and the rhythm of his breath match theirs, to smell his sweat, epinephrine and testosterone like he smelled theirs.  Some giving him cocky and condescending looks, as if he had some _nerve_ trying to face them.  His lips were wet from licking them so much.  Those would be the first ones to go.

            His fists were now raised, eyes hardening, breaths deepening, anticipation increasing, heart rate steadily rising, mouth positioning into an “O”, body bracing, pupils slightly dilating.  One of the men decided to really get in his face and was met with a spearhand thrust to the chest.  The blow which set everything else into motion.

            The five other men lunged forward at once, and Luigi was ready for them.  Dodging, jumping and attacking from the air, sliding, cartwheeling and throwing fireballs.  Once he got a single opponent in his sights, he let ’er rip with powerful blows, smash attacks and elbow strikes.  He even took on two at once, punching one and kicking the other, knocking them away with his Cyclone.  Once the pressure got too much, he dropped low to the floor and kicked in a breakdancing motion, following up with numerous karate chops, hooks, jabs and tilts.  He sent one stumbling using his “sissy-fists” and then whirled on another, sidestepping his attack and throwing a powerful cross to the face.  Two charged at him from opposite directions, but he halted them with body shots followed by a power kick each, subduing them.  A third man engaged him, and after a heated clash, Luigi slammed his forearm against his neck and caught him under the chin with an uppercut.  His reflexes helped him avoid an ambush from another man, and then he shot his elbow into his backside, followed by an open hand stab to the torso.

            Guard up, Luigi whirled around, searching for another aggressor.  The room was empty, but he wasn’t alone.  He _knew_ someone was watching.  There was a large, rectangular mirror on the wall, and it was there that he saw someone darting into his peripherals.

            It was the man he’d forward smashed earlier, hanging back, just waiting for him to drop caution and charge.  Luigi wasn’t about to do that.  He stood there, not daring to move, simply looking at him out of the corner of his eye, breathing, waiting.  He hated the mocking expression on the other man’s face, hated the silent ridicule he sensed from him.  This one thought he was _really_ tough, didn’t he?  But he was going to gently correct him on that matter and demonstrate what toughness was truly about.

            For a while, the two men stared intently at each other, shutting out the moans and groans from the others, muscles and nerves primed and ready.  The reflected images of the two amplified the intense moment.  Bodies tensed, and breaths hitched at the slightest hint of movement from the other.  Sooner or later, the heat had to overcome one of them.  Sooner or later, one of them had to break.

            It was the tough guy who lost patience, hollering like a wild man and rushing headlong at the man in green.  Coolly, Luigi intercepted him, flipped him and then slammed him onto the floor.  The man tried to knock the feet out from under the plumber, but he rolled to the side and pinned his opponent, punching him repeatedly until he tapped out.

            Luigi took another swig of lemonade as he surveyed the six men he’d beaten.  Ready to snap back into action if one of them decided he wanted more.  But these guys were smart.  They knew when they were beat.  Still, Luigi circled them, with quiet steps, eloquent eyes on the lookout for any sudden movements.  All the while, he gradually got his breathing and his heart rate back to normal.  The true battle was still ahead of him.

            “Holy cow.  You’re good,” one of them finally conceded.

            “Yeah.  You really _are_ number one,” said another.

            Luigi accepted the compliments with a cool smile.  His guard was still up, adrenaline continuing to pound into him.  His gaze fell on one of them, propping himself up on his elbows and giving him the stinkeye.  He set his lemonade back down and ventured over to him.  As soon as he reached him, though, the other man averted his eyes to the floor.

            “I saw that look,” he warned in a soft voice.  “If you want another round with me, I’m certainly up for it.”

            “You just got lucky today,” the other man grumbled.

            “Yeah?  Well, I’ll be sure to remember you, too,” said Luigi as he turned on his heel and left the other man to fume.

            Abruptly, he stopped.  His fist swung up to slam into the face of the salty man, who’d gotten to his feet to attempt a sneak attack on him.  He spun, deciding the outcome of the scuffle with some hard-hitting shots to the abdomen, finishing with a knifehand strike to the nose.  The salty dude surely changed his tune after that.

            Blue eyes swung over the other five men.  “Anyone else?” he calmly asked.

            “No, man.  You’re the best!” someone replied.

            Despite the praise they tossed at him, Luigi continued his vigil over them, silently daring them.  Once his adrenaline settled itself down, he was convinced.  He smiled politely at them and tossed them a wave as he grabbed his drink and made his way to the private studio to confront Val.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Val’s fingers flicked over the screen of his iPhone, setting his playlist on shuffle.  As soon as he hit the “play” button, he turned around and saw who he expected to see.

            Luigi, post-workout glow on his skin, bottle of lemonade dangling from one hand.  Blood nice and circulated.  Eyes bright.  No smile.

            Val recognized the signs of suspicion and distrust.  The guy had been played like a fiddle most of his life, and Val had experienced something similar in his line of work.  There was always someone ready to blow his cover; he couldn’t trust anyone too much.  Luckily, he’d come prepared this time.

            Rummaging in his duffel bag, Val withdrew the one object destined to put Luigi at ease—a green beret with an L on it—and placed it on his head.

            Relief flooded through Luigi’s body as soon as he saw that article of clothing.  Good.  He wasn’t being led into a trap after all.  Val was telling the truth.

            That didn’t mean he was going to go easy on the guy.

            “So,” said Val.  “How were they?”

            Luigi smiled.  “Nothing I couldn’t handle,” he replied.  “Some of them didn’t think that much of me, though.”

            “Oh?  Then, I’ll be sure to discuss that with them,” said Val.  His eye fell on a single bead of sweat on Luigi’s cheek, quivering when he spoke, but otherwise just staying there.

            “They thought they could take me,” Luigi went on, the playfulness slowly leaving his face.  “They always think they can take me.  You won’t believe how many people I have to prove wrong, even after my year and the kart race in 2014.  But I’m looking at you, and I know that _you_ won’t make that mistake.  Will you, Val?”

            “No way,” chuckled Val.  “You took on six of my best men and won with barely a scratch.”

            Even then, he was peeling off his tank top, revealing his assets for Luigi to see.  The plumber looked the P.I up and down, feeling his breath come a little quick.  _That’s right, Val.  Let’s see your six-pack abs, your flat stomach, your muscle bound arms and legs.  Give me a good look at all of your tattoos so I can know who I’m up against.  Come on.  Show me that you’re physically superior.  Come on, Val._

            “I hope you saved your breath and your energy for me,” stated Val, “because you’re going to get one heck of a fight from me.”

            “What makes you think I expect otherwise?” Luigi shot back, with heat.

            The door to the private studio sealed them off from the rest of the gym.  It was a large, spacious studio, with large mirrors, windows with sunscreens, laminated floors and fans overhead.  Those fans wouldn’t come into play just yet.  The two men strolled about the edges of the room, sizing up the one standing across from them, dukes up.

            “You know that I expect 100% from you, yes?” asked Val as his playlist began to animate the room.

            “You want 100%?  I’ll give 120%,” retorted Luigi.  “Remember though—our bargain.”

            “Never fear, L.  I’m a man of my word.”

            And on those lines, the men bounded towards each other.

            Val was a whiz at hand-to-hand combat, thirsty for it, even.  It had escaped him from many a life-threatening situation.  He quickly saw that Luigi was just as eager to get close and land those decisive body blows, to really turn up the heat and decrease the other’s breathing room.  He was an aggressive fighter, and his skirmish with the six had really prepared him.  Where he saw muscle or some tattoo, Luigi punched.  When his blows caused Val to stagger, Luigi attacked harder.  Fluidly, he ducked under Val’s fists, slid under his arms, and hopped about on the balls of his feet, always remaining in motion.  Val had a fighting style like he’d never seen before, more in-your-face than any fighter he’d met.  When he tried to retreat to throw fireballs and plot his next move, Val hampered his escape.  It soon became clear that fireballs and Green Missiles were off the table in this match.  His kicks helped somewhat, but Val was so acrobatic that he’d quickly regain his footing after he tripped.  Strategic, hard-hitting shots stopped Cyclones in their tracks.  The air?  Forget it.  Val was all about staying on the ground, staying body-to-body, warmth and energy and other stuff exchanging between them.  Their emphatic, masculine grunts echoed about the studio, and it wasn’t long before their sweat began to fly off their foreheads.

            Six rounds.  Six exhilarating rounds to a slew of pulse-pounding tunes.  Bruises covered sweaty bodies, but they were ignored.  The best parts were the songs with no lyrics—just relentless beats, engaging rhythms and sensations.  Under jouncing caps, hair lopsidedly flip-flopped, getting in faces and eyes, but the invasive strands were quickly swiped away.  Bellies and sides took most of the impact, but some hefty ones were landed on jaws, noses, temples, cheeks and mouths.  Sweat, spit and blood sprayed into the air.  Plumber and private eye were just about evenly matched.

            Val and Luigi were tied at three wins each.  In between rounds, the two would hydrate and chat about their respective lives.  But now, Luigi would give his opponent the silent treatment.  Things were about to get REALLY serious.  This was the tiebreaker, the decider of the final victory, and vital information was on the line.  If those six were the appetizers, then Val was the entrée.

            So, Luigi sat, criss-cross-applesause, hands resting in his lap, breathing aggressively and gathering his energy.  The Nintendo Direct presentation.  The wounded look on Daisy’s face.  The trolling and harassment on Miiverse, in Sarasaland, and in Smash itself.  Disagreements with Master Hand, past and present.  Everything he’d been through in the weeks leading up to now.  Poor little Paul, in a hospital bed.  In his self-induced trance, he took the images, put them in an imaginary blender and swirled them around rapidly till they became a mass of energy hiding deep within his belly, right at the navel.  With his breaths, he held it there and gave his next command— _focus_.

            _Focus_ …

            In his mind’s eye, he pushed through the white noise until he saw Val, waiting for him, challenging him.  And then he focused the energy he’d gathered.  Focused every last ounce of that energy on the man dangling a tantalizing morsel just before him, and that wasn’t a nice thing to do, was it?  He told himself that he could do this, that he could beat Val, that he could get past anything anyone threw at him.  And the more he told himself this, the more he believed it.

            Val smiled at Luigi as he willed himself back into the real world.  When his eyes blinked open, they fell right on the private eye.  Critically, he looked him over, bruises, cuts, abrasions, sweat, muscles, tattoos and everything, and Val did the same with him.  This was it, the final battle.  One winner, one loser.

            Hardcore workout tunes blazed through the room as the two men approached for the staredown.  Battle-hungry eyes sizzled like lightning and fists were held up to faces, their fired-up bodies almost touching.

            “Come on, L,” Val’s voice was low.  “Let’s see what you’re made of.  You want this win?  Then take it, L.  Take it.”

            “This time, you’re getting all of me,” Luigi said to him, also low.  “Don’t put it to waste.”

            Luigi wound up and threw the first blow of the final round.

            He gave 130%...140%...150%...as much effort he could possible give.  And Val gave back.  They punched, kicked and attacked low, and countered.  Luigi got in a flurry of karate chops and flip kicks—even a rare down aerial.  Val landed a very hard strike to his foe’s stomach, earning a loud _whoosh_ of breath and a fount of drool from the mouth.  This weakened Luigi quite a bit, but he recovered somewhat by shutting out the pain receptors in his brain.  He closed in and answered the powerful shots with shots of his own.  There was the feeling of muscle and skin against fists, the coating of sweat and the drive of close combat.  Everything else mattered not to them—only the music and movements and the man lunging forward and the physical contact of bodies.  Victory for one—a world of hurt for the other.  They went hard, they went rough and they stayed hungry, unleashing hidden tensions from their personal lives.  Mouths open, breathing hard and fierce, yet the round went on.  Neither was going to be the first to fold.

            In the end, Luigi got in the prime position and plowed his fist with all of his power under Val’s chin, erupting in a fiery attack.  Val was launched upwards, and when he landed, Luigi straddled his hips, holding him down.  The P.I. fancied a good wrestle and engaged the plumber that way, but no matter how he worked his muscles, Luigi was simply too much.  Finally, he tapped Luigi on the arm, submitting.

            Luigi released Val, helped him up and then hugged him.

            “That was something else,” complimented Val.

            “I practice,” said Luigi.  “Now, what do you know about the people I’m after?”

            Val’s eyes twinkled.  “Let me buy you lunch,” he said, “because I’ve got a story for you!”

             


	24. Interlude: A Message of Hope

**_Luigi’s POV_ **

**I’m sitting in a restaurant with my new friend, Val.  We share appetizers as he tells me everything he’s found out.  That the haters have set up networks in certain key cities all over the country.  Once these networks have been infiltrated and destroyed, the bullies will not pose as much as a threat to me, Daisy and our fans.  L.A. just so happens to be one of their strongest footholds.  They’re having another meeting soon, a ripe opportunity for me and Val to spring a little surprise.**

**Over our entrees, Val tells me a little more about himself.  He’s an only child born into an immigrant family who emphasized hard work as the path to success.  He has certainly lived up to that, earning his degree in criminal justice, earning his P.I. license and opening up a business in the City of Angels.  As he said before, he’s been enamored of me ever since _Mario Bros_ hit the arcades in 1983.  In 1999, he was one of the first spectators of Super Smash Bros, even volunteering as a commentator in later years.  As soon as he heard about the effigy burnings and harassment, he immediately volunteered to take these scumbags down.  Now, he has an important ally to accomplish that end—me.**

**As we eat and talk, the last of my suspicions melt away.  He’s definitely not an enemy in disguise.  And he understands how I feel.  Experiences similar to mine have befallen him in his line of work, making him reluctant to trust anyone too much.  I honestly thought he was going to take me in our one-on-one in the studio.  His attacks are more powerful than mine, and while I was reeling from that gut punch, he racked up plenty of hurt on me.  But in the final moments of our battle, a small blaze in me finally came out, allowing me to take the win.  If I needed information, then I was going to get it.  Luckily for me, Val is a man who never goes back on his word.**

**Val’s an all-right guy.  He can be serious and quick to action at the first sign of danger, but he also has a softer, lighter side.  His green beret can attest to that.  He attends many gaming conventions and performs his best in gaming tournaments.  He’s a connoisseur of retro and modern games in his spare time and cosplays as many video game heroes and heroines.  But the one character he cosplays the most as is me.  And now he’s footing the bill for lunch with me.  He’s a professional, so he doesn’t fangirl and fanboy like most of them.  He keeps his cool, but I can sense him internally screaming with joy.  After we order dessert, I ask him if he wants my autograph, and he quickly says yes.  He carries a few game posters around with him, so I sign those.**

**After dessert, I invite him to check out my apartment, and he accepts.  Maybe I can get him an adjoining room.  After we cool our heels by watching TV, he decides to return the favor and take me to _his_ place.  And it’s amazing.  A master bedroom, two guest bedrooms, an attic, a basement, a spacious living room, dining room and kitchen, a front porch and back porch and a beautifully done front and back yard.  Central air.  A personal gym.  This private eye has it all!**

**“You can crash here for a few nights if you want,” he tells me.**

**“Thank you,” I reply.**

**I return to my five-star hotel room, pack my things, thank the staff for making my stay as comfy as possible and then drive over to Val’s place.  He helps me get situated in one of the guest bedrooms.**

**“Don’t worry, L,” he smiles.  “As long as you’re in L.A., I’ll take care of you.”**

**“I appreciate that,” I say softly.**

**Now, I’m relaxing in my new room after a quite—vigorous—sparring session with my host.  I allow myself to think now, allow it all to bubble out of me, and it feels like I’m cleansing myself of grime, mud and muck to prepare for a new, brighter day.**

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

**_Hello, friends everywhere.  It’s-a me, Luigi.  I’m currently under the roof and care of an ardent fan of mine in Los Angeles, California.  I’ll be posting on Facebook and Twitter daily, as well as broadcasting live on a local L.A. radio station.  Over the next few days, you can find me at the Santa Monica Pier at midday, when the sun is highest in the sky.  If you’re reading this—if any one of my fans is reading this—I can provide comfort, I can provide safety, I can provide hope.  If all of my fans are reading this—please—you are not alone.  I repeat—you are not alone._**


	25. Two Against the World

            Val smiled up at his guest, doing pull-ups on the exercise bar in the gym.  His eyes were closed, breath puffing from his mouth each time he raised himself up.  Sweat dripped off his flushed face and soaked his white gloves.  Still, he kept willing his body up and over that exercise bar.  Anything to keep the thoughts away.

            “I take it my gym is to your liking?” Val asked after a while.

            “It is,” said Luigi without stopping.  He hit his 300th pull-up, followed by his 301st.

            “You know, you’re really good,” said Val.  “What’s your secret?”

            “The usual.  Eat your vegetables.  Especially mushrooms.  Lots of them.”  His arms began to quiver, and he grunted softly with every breath, yet he pressed on.  Tiny rivulets of perspiration trailed down his body and landed with soft _splats_ on the floor.

            “Yeah.  Mushrooms do you a lot of good on your adventures,” laughed Val.  “Mind if I have a turn on that?”

            “Sure.”  Luigi dropped down after his 320th pull-up.  Not quite his personal best.  As Val began hoisting himself up and down, Luigi hit the treadmill at a full sprint.  His shoes pounded against the sturdy belt of the machine as he sought to burn off the slight disappointment from the pull-ups.  The cord connecting his earbuds to his iPhone bounced and swayed as he sprinted.  Over his tunes, he could hear Val huffing as he cranked his body up and down.  Luigi just shut him out and paid full attention to nothing but his own body, imagining that he was sprinting down a route of variable incline or going through one of the “worlds” during a typical rescue mission, minus the blocks, bricks, crevices he had to jump over and enemies he had to jump on.  He had to feel something over the speed he was going.  Not only could he jump higher, but also he was faster than Mario.  Enough to overlook his worse traction.

            He and Val had been living together for almost a week, and Luigi had to admit that he was being spoiled a bit.  Val wasn’t like Evan at all.  Yes, Evan was a good roommate, but with him, he didn’t have a separate room with his own TV.  He didn’t have a special “doggy den” for his Polterpup.  There were no midnight snacks specially delivered to them.  Okay, Evan also had the nights of staying up late and playing Mad Libs and other games, but he didn’t have the private gym they visited every morning.  Val took Luigi to the best eateries in L.A. and familiarized him with all of the hot spots and places for people who needed to keep a low profile.  There were walks and jogs in parks.  Quiet afternoons of fishing.  Staying and playing at arcades till they closed.  Bonding moments at the Santa Monica Pier.  Discovering that Val wasn’t stiff and all-business, like most P.I.’s.  Glimpsing through that exterior and seeing an ordinary, die-hard Luigi fan who experienced a stroke of good luck.  He was a confirmed bachelor, not looking for love but willing to seize the opportunity when it arose.

            The week hadn’t entirely gone to waste.  Val and Luigi had spent their time together formulating a plan, an offensive against the haters in the City of Angels.  Once their plan was set into motion, those bullies would be running for the hills—what was left of them, that is.  Just a passing thought of what they had in store for those fools was enough to make Luigi’s pulse react.  He used to be the weak one, but with Val by his side, he’d have power over them.  And they were going to wish they were never born.

            Even now, sprinting as fast as he could, eyes staring fixedly out the window, Luigi felt the anticipation burning through him like fire.  His heartbeat sounded like tam-tams going off inside his chest, he was absolutely breathless and his legs were screaming at him to quit, yet he continued to lunge into his imagined race, too wired to stop.  There was so much juice in him that he felt like he could go on for hours.  Yet he couldn’t.  He and Val had an agenda, and they were going to stick to it.

            He noticed Val jump down from the pull-up bar, grab his hand wraps and stride over his punching bag, deftly wrapping his hands before releasing his own anticipation.  Luigi closed his eyes and let the persistent beat of punches take him over, grabbing the handrails on the treadmill and increasing the incline to further challenge himself.  He kept his focus on the fireworks going off inside of him, his music and the thick sweat beneath his clothes as long as he could, and when he could no longer ignore the aches and the breathlessness, he slowed to a mild run, decreasing the incline a bit.

            It was at this time that Luigi began to notice things about his surroundings again.  He could see the smog-smeared sunrise and smell his essence mingling with his host’s.  The other workout machines were arranged into neat rows, as were the weights, arranged in increasing difficulty.  He saw Val, laying into his punching bag, glittering with perspiration, and felt a mild pang of jealousy.  At least he bested him in the gym that day.

            Some of his breath back, Luigi cranked the intensity back up until he just couldn’t take it anymore.

            By the time he slowed to a jog, Val was reaching the apex of his own workout, looking like Little Mac with those rapid punches.  Luigi grabbed his water bottle and took a deep swig before slowing once more to a brisk walk.  He could think clearly again, the intense workout having untangled his emotions.  The anticipation was still there, but his mind had it firmly contained.  He couldn’t just burst in there like they did in the movies.  Sure, he wanted to take the haters down, but he also wanted to stay alive to see the end result.

            One last time, he slowed to a leisurely walk.  Breath now under control, the muscles in his legs recovering.  After a minute, he stopped the treadmill, jumped off and plopped onto a bench to rest, knocking back half of his water and watching Val wind down himself.

            At last, Val stepped away from the punching bag and walked toward his guest.

            “You want a turn on that?” he offered.

            “I think I have a better idea,” winked Luigi.

            Val’s eyes flashed.  “You’re on,” he said.

            Quickly, the two men found a nice, open spot in the personal gym, and Luigi hooked up his iPhone to the loudspeakers.  For the next two hours or so, they were in beast mode, fists going strong at bodies and faces as they got the last of whatever was plaguing them out of their systems.

            In the end, Val bested Luigi, but it didn’t matter.  What mattered was the serenity they shared in the afterglow of their sparring session.

            “You know something?” Luigi asked him.

            “What?”

            “Given what’s happened, I figured that you were in need of comfort,” said Luigi, “but from the moment you took me in, it seems that I’m more in need of comfort than you.”

            Val jerked a nod.  “You looked like you needed someone to lean on,” he said, “so I guess it _is_ a matter of me comforting you instead of vice versa.”

            “I just want to take the time to appreciate you doing all of this for me, Val,” Luigi said softly.

            “Of course,” smiled Val. “It’s my duty.  Now, are you ready to get a jump on the day?  I have some Krispy Kremes in the fridge.”

            “Thanks, buddy,” said Luigi.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            They rocketed down the highway together, wind blowing in their faces and fanning their hair, searching for clues, listening to tunes and dropping off postcards to loved ones.  They especially made good use of trips to gas stations and mini marts, asking tourists and employees for anything “weird” that might had happened.  There was the daily vigil at the Santa Monica Pier, running across and exchanging pleasantries and intel with other Luigi fans.  They traversed together down the Hollywood Walk of Fame, posed for selfies at the Hollywood sign and shopped at all of the good malls.  Continuing their ride, they talked and they talked, discovering each other’s secrets like a pair of young kids.  By now, they weren’t interacting as just idol and fan, but as _people_ , complete with naked vulnerabilities.

 **** _When you are happy with laughter to spare,_  
Fun is twice as fun with someone to share.  
When you are lonely and full of despair  
Things aren't half as bad when somebody cares.

**_Maybe now you have figured it out,  
That's what bein' a friend is about._ **

**_When you're lookin' for a shoulder you can cry on,_ **

**_(Won't you think about me?)_ **

**_When you're lookin' for someone you can rely on,  
(Don't you ever doubt me!)_ **

**_I'll be there someway somehow,  
That's what bein' friends is about!_ **

****_When you grow restless and want room to breathe,_  
I will give you all the space that you need.  
And when you're ready for my company,  
I will come around, just call on me.

**_Maybe now you have figured it out,  
That's what bein' a friend is about._ **

****_When you need someone who feels the way you do,_  
(Won't you think about me?)  
Someone who can pick you up when you are blue,  
(Don't you ever doubt me!)

**_I'll be there someway somehow,  
That's what bein' friends is about!_ **

**_I'm your friend, till the end  
Count on me._ **

**_In the sunshine and the rain,  
Paradise and back again._ **

**_Count on me._ **

**_Let me be a friend in need,  
Let me be a friend indeed._ **

**_Count on me._ **

****_And if you ask me, you know that it's true;_  
There is not a thing that I will not do!  
I'll follow you to the ends of the earth,  
That's how much I think our friendship is worth!

**_Maybe now you have figured it out,  
That's what bein' a friend is about._ **

****_When there's something that you just don't understand,_  
(Won't you think about me?)  
I'll be more than glad to lend a helping hand.  
(Don't you ever doubt me!)

**_I'll be there someway, somehow,  
That's what bein friends is about! (x2)_ **

**_(Tell me all your secrets)  
I will swear to keep them_ **

**_(Let me know your problems)  
I will help you solve them._ **

**_(When your heart is aching)  
I will stop it breaking._ **

**_(When you are in danger)  
I am your guardian angel._ **

**_(I will stand beside you)  
Be the one to guide you._ **

**_(When your dreams are crumblin')  
Call me, I'll come runnin'._ **

**_That's what friends are all about!_ **

            It was late in the afternoon when the real business began.  The duo had eaten lunch about three hours prior and was cruising down a two-lane highway.  Suddenly, Luigi noticed something which caused him to pull over to the side and cut the engine.

            “What is it?” questioned Val as he and Luigi got out of the car.

            They were in a slightly wooded area with trees scattered this way and that.  It was one particular tree which arrested the man in green’s attention.  When Val saw it, he guessed everything.  And even if he didn’t, the lingering smell of soot was confirmation enough.

            Luigi examined the burned heap at the base of the tree, a rope still tied around it.  The top part of it was still tied to a tree branch.  A few ashes dusted the ground.  And when Luigi placed his hand on the charred remains, he discovered that they were still warm.

            “An effigy burning took place here,” Luigi said after a while.  “We must be close.”

            “There’s probably going to be another one tonight,” added Val.  “We’ll spy on them there and then tail them to one of their outings.”

            “Do you have some clue where?” asked Luigi.

            Val pulled out his map and a pen.  “Here,” he said, dotting the indicated region.  “Near the area is a nightclub, and one of their frequent hangouts, as well.  We intercept that gathering, and they’re ours.”

            Luigi stroked the burnt doll’s face with his thumb.  He looked at Val, and the P.I read no hope for whatever bully they encountered tonight.  “Can’t we hide out at the burning site and then surprise them?” he queried.

            Val shook his head.  “We need to observe who we’re up against, and the burning, when they’re distracted, is our opportunity to do so,” he said.

            Luigi clucked his tongue.  “You’re right,” he said finally.  A thorough evaluation of the enemy was key to formulating an effective plan of attack.

            “Don’t worry,” Val assured him.  “This is going to end soon.  All of it.”

            He put his arm around the plumber, who leaned into the embrace.

            They headed back to the car and kept driving, but the atmosphere was a tad subdued as they realized that this wasn’t going to stop unless they did something.

            Eventually, they arrived at a hilly part of town, close to the spot Val had indicated.  There was a gas station, where they refueled, as well as a decent motel, where they checked into a room with two beds.  Luckily, both had packed an overnight bag each for this situation.

            “It’s not much,” said Luigi as they took the room in, “but it’s cheap, it’s clean, and it’s all ours.”

            “Amen to that,” said Val.

            “When do you think they’ll gather?” asked Luigi.

            “At sundown,” postulated Val.  “I’ve been to several of them, remember?”

            “That gives us enough time to decompress,” said Luigi, checking his watch.

            The area they were in also sported a restaurant and a shopping center.  First off, Luigi and Val readied themselves for the night ahead with a lovely dinner at the restaurant, followed by a tour of the shopping center.  The motel room had a small gym, but the duo grew bored of it after thirty minutes.  So, they located an open field close to the motel and went a few more rounds to dispel the jitters.

            “It’s time,” Luigi said as he observed the sun beginning its descent.  “Let’s-a go.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Deeper in the hill country, far from any public service, stood a large tree.  This tree had a wide trunk, firm, fanning branches and thick, dark green leaves.  As the last of the sun receded into the horizon, its hulking form was nothing but a dark silhouette.  In other words, it was the perfect tree for the occasion.

            Presently, the area encompassing the tree was filling with men.  Men wearing work shirts, men wearing shirtsleeves, men wearing tube tops, men wearing muscle shirts, men wearing jeans, men wearing shorts, sneakers and sandals and men wearing no shirts at all.  Most of them were carrying something.  Cases of beer, ropes, a bullhorn, matches, gasoline and a big, plastic bag.  The group yelled and hooted in greeting, primed for the night’s events.  Afterward, they’d all gather at their favorite bar to celebrate.  It wasn’t their first effigy burning—but for many of them, it would be their last.

            On top of a sturdy crate stood the ringleader, Tristan Manning, the best friend of the late, not-so-lamented Stuart Bennigan.  Tristan was none-too-happy that someone long-known as a coward whipped his friend’s butt, and he was on a mission to appease Stuart’s spirit by destroying the plumber, bit by bit.  He’d risen through the ranks as soon as Daisy had been announced as a candidate for the Smash Ballot, using his shrewdness and tactical skills which would rival Robin and Reflet.  He understood that if he really wanted to get under Luigi’s skin, then it was best to go the Daisy route.  And he had.  Each post, hate-mail, plushie burned and person harassed gave him a tremendous rush, similar to the rush he was feeling now.

            Tristan watched as more men crowded around the tree, shaking hands and patting shoulders and backs in greeting.  With a gesture, he signaled the man lugging the large plastic bag.  That man took his place to Tristan’s left.

            Now, there were men with flashlights, cutting through the now pitch-black night.  Someone was even thoughtful enough to bring a portable CD player with a large folder full of CDs.  Restless gatherers began dancing to the music, and the first cases of beer were opening.  Nothing but a party here.

            Except for two.

            Protected by the darkness and some bushes, Val and Luigi lay on their stomachs, propped up by their elbows, smelling like bug repellant and primal anticipation.  Both were armed with a pair of binoculars, allowing them an in-depth glimpse of the goings-on despite their covert position.  In this way, Luigi promptly identified and located the ringleader of the whole affair.

            “If it isn’t Stuart’s best friend,” he murmured.

            “Stuart?” whispered Val.  “You mean that guy who…?”

            “Yes,” Luigi cut him off.  Val understood that this was a subject he’d rather avoid.

            “Hey, look at the guy standing next to him,” said Val.  “What’s he got in that bag?”

            “Part of me doesn’t want to know,” shuddered Luigi.

            “Hopefully, this won’t take long,” Val said to him, “and once they’re finished, we’ll wait till they cleared out and tail them to the bar.”

            “Good plan,” smiled Luigi.  “Simple and easy to remember.”

            Then, the pair went back to their silent observation.

            A man with a rope now flanked Tristan on the right.  The ringleader himself blew into a vuvuzela, and then there was silence.

            “Welcome, welcome,” said Tristan, in a voice which rang with authority.  “Are you all ready to light this place up or what?”

            A few guys shouted, “Yeah!”

            “I said, are you ready to light this place up tonight, or what?”

            “Yeah!!” screamed everyone else.

            “It’s time to remind a certain plumber and his princess of their place!” thundered Tristan.  “Sorry to burst their bubble, but the world as they know it ends tonight, and I’m not about to let their puny cheerleaders decide what comes next!  Are you?”

            “No!”

            “The fires we burn are calling to us!  The unquestionable symbol of our outrage since the beginning of this nonsense!  That plumber is using his influences and the authority of his girlfriend as muscle against us, and we’re left there helpless!  Well, what are we going to do about it—just sit there?!  Of course not!  Who told them they could traipse around these games anytime it suited them?  What good are they in royal duties and rescue missions?  Why don’t they just stick with sports, karts, toilets and sinks?”

            The crowd roared.

            “After a long period of enduring hissy-fit after hissy-fit from these two, the resistance has begun to act!  There comes a time when the operation of the machine becomes so odious, that we all must put our bodies upon the gears and the wheels, and make it stop!”

            The men cheered.

            “And now, without further ado, let us consecrate the message that we are fed up, for all to see!”

            Tristan turned to the bag man.  “If you would be so kind,” he said.

            The man reached into his bag, pulled out a life-sized Daisy plushie, and held it before the gatherers, who hooted drunkenly.  Then, he reached again into his bag, this time extracting a life-sized Luigi plushie and repeating what he’d done with the Daisy plushie.  Both dolls were relatively untouched, which could be a good thing—or a bad thing.

            “Look at them—so cute together,” snickered Tristan.  “What do you say we give them the couples treatment tonight, eh?”

            Whoops of agreement.

            The rope guy moved in then, tying the two plushies together as two of his pals helped him.  While this was going on, the others armed themselves with baseball bats, sticks, golf clubs, clubs, crowbars and other types of battering weapons.  They arranged themselves into a big circle around the two bound dolls, and the rope guy and his buddies joined in shortly thereafter.

            “Before we do that, though,” said Tristan.  “What do you say we soften them up a bit?”

            “Yeah!”

            As Tristan led the way, the mob of people descended upon the two plushies and began to sadistically set upon them.  Those who didn’t have weapons simply used their fists or feet.  The dolls were lost in the sea of unruly men, beating them, destroying them, defiling them.  Coarse laughter, taunts and curses filled the air.  One of them began grinding against one of the dolls—it was hard to tell which one at this point.  Another was hacking off the “hair” of the Daisy plushie with a butcher knife.  Pieces of fabric and stuffing were tossed into the air, people running about waving handfuls of it into the air.

            When some began loosening their belts and unzipping their pants, Val reached over to cover Luigi’s eyes, but the plumber brushed his hand away.  He’d seen this once before, hiding in the shadows and waiting to pounce upon Budd.  He could handle it.  He was a strong man who fought ghosts and big reptiles and performed admirably in kart racing and sports tournaments.  He lived through the Chaos Heart business.  He survived Tabuu.  So he could certainly weather this, the sight of these filthy men having their “fun” with these poor dolls before torching them.

            Finally, Tristan raised an arm and commanded, “Enough.”

            Obediently, the guys fell back from the two plushies.

            “We need to save some of them for the flames, yes?”

            Heads nodded in agreement.

            By now, Val’s right hand had gone to sleep, Luigi was squeezing it so hard.

            The bullies now dragged what was left of the two plushies to the tree.  More rope was produced, and soon, the remains of the dolls were swaying from one of the thick branches.

            Tristan took a can of gasoline from one man and began pouring it all over the dolls.  He didn’t stop until they were completely drenched and dripping.  Finally, he lit a match and held it aloft.

            “Let this be a reminder to you, Los Angeles!” he cried.  “This is what we think of these two being in any game!”

            And with that, he lit the two plushies on fire, the flames slithering and licking up the kerosene-soaked fabric until it all became a dangling pyre.  Below, the men whooped, gulped down more beer and danced like fanatics around their effigy, shouting curses about Daisy, Luigi and all of their fans.  A red-orange glow briefly lit up the area around the huge tree.  So intense was the heat that the two spies began to sweat.  They forced themselves to watch as the searing flames ate up the fabric and the stuffing, all of it grotesquely peeling and melting away.  The smell was not very pleasant.

            When the flames began to die down, Tristan ordered two men to douse the effigy with fire extinguishers, putting the fire out.  Everyone cleaned up the worst of the mess, hiding the evidence, and then cut down the ash and soot-ridden remains of the two plushies.  High-fives were exchanged, and then the group split, headed to a celebratory romp—and ultimately, to their deaths.

            Once the last person had gone, Luigi and Val slowly came out of hiding, shaking and endeavoring to process what they saw.

            “Monsters,” gasped Luigi.  “Those _monsters_!”

            It wasn’t just the heat from the fire that made him sweat.  It was the brazen disrespect unfolding before his eyes and their shameless enjoyment of it.  Seeing it up close was different from seeing pictures of it.  He staggered back to their bush and heaved.

            Once his vileness had been emptied, he and Val made their way back to their car, the P.I.’s hand on the small of Luigi’s back the entire time.

            “Can you drive?” asked Val.

            “Yeah,” said Luigi.

            They climbed inside and took off in pursuit of Tristan and his men.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            After changing their smoky-smelling clothing, Tristan and his men were having a ball at a local nightclub, slugging back drinks other than beer, telling stories and jokes and discussing other plans.  Tristan just so happened to be the owner of that club, and he was hosting a private party, which meant that it was strictly an invitation-only affair.  What he didn’t know was that two of his guests weren’t actually guests at all.

            The dance floor was crowded with patrons dancing and shimmying to the beat.  Tristan sat in a private room on the top floor, flanked by his best guys, watching the revelry below.  As uneasiness began to stir in his chest, he sent a man to do a security sweep of the property.  The sweep came up clean, which did nothing to allay the roiling waves of dread settling inside him.  In his usual way, however, he did his best to just shrug it all off and enjoy the night.

            However, danger was closer to him than he thought.  And the source of that danger presently sat at the counter, one of them downing a Poppin’ Purple Tanqueray, the other downing a club soda.

            “L, you know you can’t drive afterwards,” warned the one with the club soda.

            “Don’t worry; I’ll give you the keys,” the other assured him.

            “Just stick to the plan, all right?”

            Luigi just smiled.  And as long as Valentine “Val” O’Halloran lived, he would never, ever forget that smile.

            Later, the two slipped to the men’s room and shed their disguises.

            “You know, I really think you should let me handle them,” Val said nervously.  “I’ll have them on vandalism and trespassing charges.”

            “You don’t know Tristan like I do,” Luigi told him.  “I’ll bet he has some hotshot legal team ready to bail him out.”

            “L, no sweat.  I’ll go and report this in, and boom.  We won’t have to worry about them anymore.”

            “No, we won’t,” Luigi said, emotionlessly.

            “Well, what do _you_ have in mind?” challenged Val.

            Luigi turned and looked at him.  “You’ve been very helpful,” he said, “but I think it’s time you rest awhile.”

            “I’m not leaving you alone in here,” objected Val.  “If they find out…”

            “I’m a Smasher, remember?  I can take care of myself,” winked Luigi.

            “L, I’m having a bad feeling about this,” said Val.

            “I saw a back door to this place.  You can leave through there.”  And Val could tell by the tone of his companion’s voice that this was far from a request—it was an order.

            Then, his face rested against Luigi’s shoulder, arms encircling his back.  “In case I don’t make it out of this, I want you to know how wonderful you’ve been,” Luigi whispered.  “I want you to live your life and look out for the other fans I have.  And I have been blessed to live under your roof, if only for a short time.”

            He released his hold and added, “Should something happen to me tonight, tell Mario, Peach, Daisy, Yoshi and Rosalina that I loved them.  And tell Master Hand—I’m sorry.”

            Val understood that there would be no more arguing over the matter.

            “Our destinies have been entwined, Val,” concluded Luigi, “but never joined.”

            He leaned in and kissed Val on the cheek.  “Go.  Hurry,” he commanded.

            Reluctantly, Val turned and headed for the door.

            “And Val?”

            “Yes?”

            “Even if I’m jumped, don’t come back for me.”

            “L, this is crazy…!”

            “Do.  Not.  Come.  Back.  For.  Me.”

            Val swallowed.  “Okay.”

            Luigi watched him slip out the back door and into the night, allowing himself a misty-eyed smile.

            That smile was quickly replaced by cold fury and hate as he prepared to make his grand entrance.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Meanwhile, Tristan was still in his private room, playing darts, as the men around him drunkenly talked about doing shots off of a certain princess.  Below them, the revelry was still in full swing, men dancing, jumping on countertops and about to get rowdy—that is, until security stepped in.  Everything was just fine.

            And then it wasn’t.

            For at that very moment, a familiar voice boomed over the general sounds of celebration:

            “Tristan Manning!  You and I have unfinished business!”

 


	26. Unholy Night

            Tristan and his accompanying men ran out to the balcony overlooking the lobby and dance floor.  The other men on the floor had stopped partying, too, their attention on this sudden intrusion on their festive night.  Standing in the center, still as a statue yet shaking slightly, was the man in charge of the ropes during the effigy burning.  And not just any man—it was Tristan’s second-in-command and chief bouncer, Porky Minch.

            Porky looked like he’d been in a fight, with his face raw-looking and swollen.  His blond hair did a good job at hiding most of the damage, though.  But as the split knuckles indicated, he’d put up a whale of a fight.  After all, Tristan didn’t appoint him as the chief bouncer of his club for nothing.

            But it wasn’t Porky who was drawing this attention.  It was the man now emerging from behind him.  The man who made Tristan into the person he was today.  The man Tristan hoped never to see again.  The man who was the target of Tristan’s little campaign.  The man who’d witnessed the double-plushie burning and had emptied his guts due to what he saw.  The man whose flaming eyes promised nothing but the worst for Tristan and all of his cronies.

            The man in green—Luigi.

            Though he showed the unfortunate consequences of picking a fight with Porky Minch, Luigi was ready for action.  His disguise had been swapped out for his dry-cleaned and pressed Fire Flower uniform.  The L.A. sun had left a nice, golden hue to his skin.  His fire, more intense than the fire that consumed those dolls, circulated through his body, concealing his injuries.  He locked eyes with the man on the balcony, the man overseeing this nonsense, the man in league with the person who almost ruined his life.  Memories struck him like a compact vehicle, the stuff he’d seen on TV and on YouTube, Paul in the hospital, Budd’s gross acts, and memories of Stuart Bennigan, that leech, that brainwasher, and what he’d left behind.  He must be laughing in that sulfurous pit, laughing at what Tristan, his best friend, was doing to him!

            Deep within him, something snapped.  He let out a loud yell and tackled Porky face-first to the ground, slamming his fist into the man’s back over and over and over, until he was certain Porky’s spine was in pieces.  He rose to his feet and calmly walked toward Tristan as Porky writhed on the floor, screaming about the absence of feeling in his legs.  The other guys didn’t even bat an eye, refusing to show anything in front of this green-clad weakling.  Porky crawled to safety and whined for someone to get him to the hospital, but his cries went unheeded, as the rest remained rooted in their spots.

            Tristan’s face was a blank mask as he gave the order.  “Get him.”

            The men accompanying him rushed down the stairs, confronting the intruder.  Luigi didn’t even waste a second, immediately intercepting their assault.  They all wound up stunned by his Cyclone attack and had no time to prepare for his offensive.  One got up and was met with a nice kick to the solar plexus, flipped over Luigi’s shoulder and slammed down hard.  All he could do was look the man in the eye as vicious elbow strikes connected with his neck.  The same mercy was shown to the other attackers.  Several had their noses smashed clear away, ribs cracked and broken, necks and spinal cords snapped—and for one attacker who tried to put him into a submission hold, his eyes were poked into a pulpy mess.

            Body spinning, arm thrusting out in an open hand stab just below the chest of another charging attacker, and then it was just fists, feet, elbows and God-knows-what-else hacking away at the second wave of attackers, and then the third wave, and then the fourth and fifth waves, and so on and so forth as they shouted and he shouted.  Some wet their pants.  Others soiled themselves.  All of them got what they deserved.  Tristan’s face stayed frozen as his followers were used as punching bags, cracks and thuds sounding in his ears and the scents of blood, saliva and other stuff met his nostrils.

            Now, the man these people had shamelessly mocked now held the key to their continued existence.  They used to laugh at him and spit at him—and now they were begging from him.  These men cowered under tables, shirking from Luigi’s gaze, disobeying when Tristan ordered them to attack.  But at least they tried to resist.  Luigi’s face and body were covered with bruises and blood, and there was a mark around his neck when someone had endeavored to strangle him with a nun chuck.  That, however, was nothing compared to the shape the opposing parties were in.  If they weren’t contorting in agony in their own blood and filth, then they were lying motionless in their own blood and filth.  Teeth and bits of jaws glittered like diamonds around them.  Wide eyes spoke empty apologies, whimpers revealing what kind of men they truly were.

            Luigi was now where he could look straight up at Tristan.  “Long time, no see, buddy,” he said as evenly as possible.

            “Sorry, L,” sneered Tristan, “but you’re not on the guest list.”

            “I am now,” retorted Luigi, “because I decided to invite myself.”

            “You know, for a pacifist, that’s one heck of a job you just did,” deadpanned Tristan.

            Luigi spread his hands.  “Well, if you hadn’t been so chummy with that licentious excuse of a human being, then you wouldn’t be in this situation.”

            “I would not bring _him_ into this if I were you,” warned Tristan.

            “Why not?  You’re only doing this because you’ve been under his viperous influence for so long,” Luigi shot back.  “So, what’s your plan, Tristan?  Are there any more cronies I need to subdue?”

            His answer came in the form of cars screeching into the parking lot.

            “Knock yourself out,” Tristan said smugly as he heard his reinforcements charge in.

            By the dozens, they flooded down the stairs, shouting incomprehensible battle cries and brandishing all types of battering weapons, from nun chucks to chains to crowbars to belts and all others.  The men hiding under tables gained courage from these numbers and jumped up to assist their comrades.  In seconds, the dance floor became very, _very_ crowded.  Luigi found himself smack in the middle of a ring of guys quite capable of tearing him limb from limb.

            And he wasn’t afraid.

            While his facial features relaxed into a curious smile, his dukes were raised, implying something entirely different from that innocent look.  He read the facial expressions on the sea of men like novels.  Yeah, they were encouraged by his many facial injuries and the blood stains on his Fire Flower uniform, and yes, he look a bit tuckered out.  But they should’ve taken his eyes into consideration, practically begging one of them to throw the first strike.  He could take it smiling!  What he’d been through was worse than that!  More and more reinforcements began to close the circle between them and Luigi, and the hate he held for each and every one of them for trying to break him down was enough to smother whatever fear welling up inside.

            Of course, though, they weren’t going to see that until later.  Right now, his face was bright, eyes snapping, battered and bleeding lips delicately curved in the smile that only the Miis and the six men at the gym had seen.  Warm, sticky sweat slid nice and slowly down his skin.  As far as his eyes could see, there were nothing but men, and he just breathed, focusing on the movements of his lungs as he pulled and pushed air in and out.

            Slightly to his left, Luigi saw one man about to make a move.

            He moved first.

            His strong arms blocked all of his strikes, and he wasted no time returning them.  He blasted hooks into the other man’s temples and threw fierce punches and kicks at the face, chest and backside.  He gathered up his might and did a powerful headbutt on him.  Even though his ears rang, he kept going, racking up the damage points until everyone else distracted him.

            Tristan didn’t bother watching this battle.  Instead, he calmly exited out the back door and made arrangement to ready his private jet.  His chauffeur drove him to the airport in record time, and he strode coolly down the tarmac, counting the seconds until the City of Angels was in the rearview mirror.

            Unfortunately, when he reached the jet, he was greeted by a very unpleasant sight.  His pilot was sitting in the back of a police car, charged with aiding and abetting a criminal.  At the doors of the jet, waiting for him, stood a stocky Irishman with jet black hair, a taller masked man with some nice-looking muscles and another person in full body armor.

            “Bad news, Tristan Manning,” crowed Val.  “Your flight’s been canceled.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Back at the club, Tristan’s men weren’t faring any better.  Numbers stood no chance against hate and the desire for vengeance.  Luigi moved fluidly through the dense phalanx of attackers, lashing out with heart-stopping force at anyone coming his way.  Packs of them were sent flying by his tornado attack, and he used some of them as footstools when he had to jump.  His arms ached from using his forward smash so much, but Tristan’s cronies didn’t care.  Neither did he.  And apparently, the DJ didn’t care, either, continuing to spin tunes, headphones on, as the battle raged.

            Now, he was hugging the ground, legs sweeping like a breakdancer’s, knocking attackers flat on their bottoms and setting on them before they could get back up.  He hopped up in time to pluck this guy’s eye from his face and then sock him in the chest, toppling him.  Another guy was grabbed, pummeled, swung around and tossed carelessly into his pals.  Somebody came at him with a weapon and all Luigi had to do was sidestep, resulting in some friendly fire.  Sometimes, he could use their own weapons against them under pressure, lashing out with a lead pipe or a wrench, wrapping a nun chuck around the neck like one tried to do to him or using his shield to protect himself against ninja stars and other sharper weapons and send them right back at their masters.  He especially liked it when someone charged at him with knives, broken bottles and other sharp weapons so he could throw some punches, grab them, wrench the thing out of their hands and then use it to carve into them as they screamed.  His fireballs and relentless attacks sent everyone into confusion; they sometimes attacked each other trying to get at him.  Ringing above the commotion was his own voice, hollering like there was no tomorrow.  These hard-headed bullies kept coming at him, and they kept falling.  Bones kept snapping apart and cronies kept slipping in blood.  Fireballs kept burning in all the right places.  Throws kept slamming people into windows and walls.  Luigi’s heart kept on beating with every harrowing escape from a life-threatening situation.

 **The secret side of me, I never let you see**  
I keep it caged but I can't control it  
So stay away from me, the beast is ugly  
I feel the rage and I just can't hold it

 **It's scratching on the walls, in the closet, in the halls**  
It comes awake and I can't control it  
Hiding under the bed, in my body, in my head  
Why won't somebody come and save me from this, make it end?

 **I feel it deep within, it's just beneath the skin**  
I must confess that I feel like a monster  
I hate what I've become, the nightmare's just begun  
I must confess that I feel like a monster

**I, I feel like a monster  
I, I feel like a monster**

**My secret side I keep hid under lock and key**  
I keep it caged but I can't control it  
'Cause if I let him out he'll tear me up, break me down  
Why won't somebody come and save me from this, make it end?

 **I feel it deep within, it's just beneath the skin**  
I must confess that I feel like a monster  
I hate what I've become, the nightmare's just begun  
I must confess that I feel like a monster

 **I feel it deep within, it's just beneath the skin**  
I must confess that I feel like a monster  
I, I feel like a monster  
I, I feel like a monster

 **It's hiding in the dark, it's teeth are razor sharp**  
There's no escape for me, it wants my soul, it wants my heart  
No one can hear me scream, maybe it's just a dream  
Maybe it's inside of me, stop this monster

 **I feel it deep within, it's just beneath the skin**  
I must confess that I feel like a monster  
I hate what I've become, the nightmare's just begun  
I must confess that I feel like a monster

 **I feel it deep within, it's just beneath the skin**  
I must confess that I feel like a monster  
I've gotta lose control, here's something radical  
I must confess that I feel like a monster

 **I, I feel like a monster**  
I, I feel like a monster  
I, I feel like a monster  
I, I feel like a monster

            Luigi fought his way up the stairs, in pursuit of Tristan.  He knew he fled some time ago, the coward.  But he was going to smoke him out, even if it meant plowing through a mess of subordinates.  A crazy one decided to swing from a chandelier to get to him, but Luigi grabbed him by his legs, slammed him against the railing a few times and then hurled him back to the main floor below.  Still battling for his life, he raced into Tristan’s private room.

            Tristan wasn’t there.  But a ton of his cronies were, backing him into a corner.  With no way out, Luigi held his ground, quickly making sure his body wasn’t that badly injured.  He was _really_ bloodied and bruised at this point, but at least all of his vital organs were still intact.  The Stars were still on his side.

            He refused to think about how he was now stuck in this room.  He looked the men straight in the eye, breathing heavily—slowing it—steadying it.  A slow count of five in.  Now a slow count of five holding it.  Now a slow count of five out.  And begin again.  His heart hammered away, and for the life of him, he couldn’t get it down.  Especially when he saw the lights slowly dim until they were off completely.

            Under the cover of darkness, the swarm of men lunged.

            Luigi dodged and weaved, jumped and cartwheeled, striking back when he could.  His smash attacks sent some of them crashing out the window for a steep drop, and he wasted no time looking at them.  He couldn’t, because there were more of them getting in his face.  And so he attacked, defended, threw and throttled until he’d cleared out the whole lot.

            When the lights came back on, the man in green stood, shaken but still alive, glaring hard at what used to be a crowd of cronies, a few of them literally licking their wounds.  Those giving him a very hard time had their forms in impossible positions, a few centimeters of bones poking through the skin.  Luigi looked across the room and saw one of them staring at him with goggle eyes, hands raised in surrender.  In a few strides, he reached him, took him over his knee and sharply spanked him on the behind.

            “This is what you get when you mess with the wrong people!” he admonished.  “Now go home to your parents!”

            The guy did just that, crying his eyes out.

            As Luigi exited the room, a large guy tackled him, using his weight to pin him down as he battered his face with his fists.  But the plumber managed to free one hand and used it to sear his assailant’s chest with his fire.  With him now distracted, Luigi wriggled free, groped for a bit on the floor, snatched up a letter opener and jumped up in time to evade the next charge.  Then, Luigi grabbed the man’s neck and pinned him securely against the railing.  He stuck the letter opener into the man’s right shoulder and made a nice cut all the way down his body as the big lug screamed, calling him nasty names.  After that, he carved the letter “L” into the singed chest before releasing him, letting him scream like a stuck pig.

            The plumber jumped onto the railing and addressed the remnants of Tristan’s men.

            “Any of you who are still unscathed, you may take your wounded and flee while you have the chance,” he announced.  “As for those who aren’t so lucky, leave anything you lost; it all belongs to me now.”

            His head whipped toward a familiar figure crawling on his belly toward the exit.  “But you, Porky, are going to stay right where you are!” he ordered.

            Luigi smiled as the deflated bullies took him up on his offer.  Then, out of all occasions, his phone buzzed.

            “Well,” he said as he read the text message.  “Looks like I have places to go.”


	27. Goodbyes

            “Val, you’re not going to like this,” said Douglas as he strolled to Val.

            “What?  He’s gonna walk?” asked Val.

            “Yup.  His lawyer got the charges against him and his accomplices dropped.  It’s like they’re untouchable.”

            Val pinched the bridge of his nose.  “He was right,” he moaned.

            “Who?” asked Douglas.

            “L,” explained Val.  “Speaking of which, he’s still there.  He told me not to come get him, but…”

            “I get it,” said Douglas, glancing knowingly at Samus.  “He’s your best friend.  I’d do the same thing, too.”

            “So, you two go way back, huh?” laughed Val.

            “There were a few bumps along the way, I’ll tell you that,” cracked Douglas.  “Did I tell you about the time he and I got into it over our rankings?”

            “He said a little about that,” nodded Val.

            “Well, once upon a time, there was a quaint little piece of paper in these tournaments known as the tier list…”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Luigi emerged from the men’s restroom of the now-silent club, having cleaned himself up as best as he could.  He scanned his surroundings for any attackers, but the small remainder of Tristan’s subordinates had fled.  There was only a matter of time before they came back with even more reinforcements, so he had to move quickly.

            Porky grumbled in protest as Luigi picked him up bridal-style and carried him outside.  He helped him into the backseat of his car before hopping into the driver’s seat and starting the engine.

            “Where are you taking me?” whined the bouncer.

            “Just rest awhile, okay?” replied Luigi.

            He turned up the radio as loud as he could bear and zoomed down the highway, singing hard as Porky moaned and groaned.  Soon, the club was far behind them, and there was only the road, the headlights and the glittering sky.

            Twenty or so minutes later, Luigi stopped the car and smiled over at his passenger.  “It’s been a rough day for you, I’m sure,” he said.

            “Yeah, thanks to you,” scoffed Porky.

            “Tell me—what led you to go from the Pig King to a lowly bouncer?” asked Luigi, gently.

            “Not that you’d care, but I came here in search of a new life,” Porky reluctantly answered.

            “A new life which involved harassing me?” challenged Luigi.

            “Anyone who associates with those twerps Ness and Lucas is no friend of mine,” sneered Porky.

            “How do you know I’m associated with them?”

            “It was obvious how you three were protecting each other in that Great Maze or whatever,” eyerolled Porky.

            “So, you don’t like Ness or Lucas, am I right?”

            “Greenie, you guessed it!” crowed Porky.

            “And eventually, you were going to go after them—to get at me,” said Luigi, his voice becoming hard and dangerous.  “Am I right?”

            Porky saw the look on Luigi’s face and began to sweat.  “Now, wait a minute…!”

            Luigi jumped out of the car, opened the rear passenger door, and yanked Porky out, as well.  He dragged the bouncer over to the rear of the car and pinned him against it before unleashing a fiery flurry of punches at his face.

            “Aww, is someone getting mad?” cackled Porky once Luigi calmed down a bit.

            “Playtime’s over, Minch,” announced Luigi.  “What this all comes down to is this.  I have questions, and you, my friend, are going to answer them.”

            Porky spat in Luigi’s face.  “I’ll tell you nothing,” he vowed.  “I’ll take the answers to my grave.”

            “I knew you’d say that,” Luigi said in a resigned tone, “but don’t worry.  Once we have a little fun, you’ll be happy to spill what you need to know.  Get moving!”

            Porky yelped as Luigi led him away.

            _Later_ …

            “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” asked Luigi.

            Painfully, Porky shook his head “no”.  All four of his limbs hung limp and useless.  Pine needles had been jabbed into his eyes.  His shoulders had been wrenched right out of their sockets.  His kneecaps were busted.  The rest of his body was covered with lacerations, and half of his hair had been burned off.

            “I’ll leave you here, but when your friends find you, I want you to tell them what happened tonight,” Luigi instructed him.  “I want you to tell them what I told you.  And when they look at you, I want them to see how merciful I will be.  As for Tristan, he can run, but he can’t hide.”

            He tossed Porky a wry wave and headed back to his car.

            “You’ll regret this day, L!  Just you wait!” Porky screamed after him.  “I’ll have you right where I want you!”

            Luigi stopped and turned around.  “Save your breath,” he said.  “I have _you_ right where I want you.”

            “And how is that?” Porky wanted to know.

            As if on cue, they both heard the frenzied barking of wild dogs— _very hungry_ wild dogs.

            “Oh, no…” gasped Porky.

            Luigi smiled and climbed back into his vehicle.  “Eat…” he murmured as he started the engine and left Porky Minch, second-in-command to Tristan Manning and archrival to Ness and Lucas, to his grisly fate.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            “…and we both lived happily ever after, sort of,” finished Douglas.

            “Nice to know that you two got your friendship straightened out,” said Val, “but I was actually talking about you and Samus.”

            Falcon turned cherry red.  “No, no, no.  We’re not—um—we’re not a—you know—we’re just friends and colleagues—erm—doing some bounty hunting together.”

            “Mmm-hmm,” said Val, unconvinced.

            “She’s a nice lady who does her job well and fights well, though.  I couldn’t take my eyes off of her when we first met in ’99.  She’ll deny it, but she kept gawking at me, too.  But I’m not admitting anything!” He quickly added.

            “I believe you just did,” Val replied smartly.  “Don’t be embarrassed—you two are cute together.”

            “Ah—thanks?”

            Samus strolled over, helmet under her arm.  “All-righty, boys,” she said.  “Let’s get Tristan out of here before he throws a fit.”

            Reluctantly, the trio went to Tristan’s holding cell and let him out, apologizing for the inconvenience and asking for no hard feelings.  Tristan played the role of a contrite, benevolent man who had a brush with the law to a tee, smiling and shaking their hands, but the bounty hunters and the P.I saw the vengeful person underneath that mask.  Falcon’s eye never left Samus until two patrolmen walked Tristan out of the station.

            “You’ll have to breathe eventually,” Samus said to him.

            “Oh?  How long have I been holding my breath?” queried Falcon.

            “Oh, about two minutes or so.”  Samus slid her helmet back onto her head.  “Any news on the L?”

            “He just texted me,” reported Val.  “There’s a 24-hour diner not far from here.  He wants us to rendezvous here.”

            “You mean—you told him about me and Sammy?” asked Falcon.

            “Of course.  Secrets, secrets are no fun; secrets, secrets hurt someone,” intoned Val.  “Let’s get moving.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            As soon as Tristan was released from custody, the first thing he wanted to do was to get his hands on Luigi.  One of his scouts told him where the plumber was headed, so he tailed him there.  What he didn’t know was that Luigi was prepared for him.

            “I knew the police wouldn’t hold you,” the man in green said casually.

            “How on Earth did you plow through my men?” Tristan wanted to know.

            “When you and your cronies relentlessly bashed me on Miiverse and then went after my fans, you forgot one important thing—I’m-a Luigi, number one!”

            “Yes, well, it’s a shame I forgot that,” snorted Tristan.

            “Honestly, I expected Val to go back on his word and try to help me,” shrugged Luigi.  “That’s the kind of man he is.”

            “And those bounty hunters,” hissed Tristan.  “My blue-haired friend was right.  They were sneaking around in our ranks!  It won’t be long until word of their activities reaches everyone else.”

            “Then I won’t let it,” Luigi said determinedly.

            Tristan chuckled.  “I hoped my men didn’t drain too much of your energy,” he warned, “because you’re going to need as much of it as you can—if you want to walk out of here alive, that is!”

            Luigi took a preparatory breath, and then allowed it to quietly stream out.

            He and Tristan purposefully began to stride toward each other.  Their battleground consisted of a lushly green, level, lightly-wooded area.  The trees would make especially good weapons for both of them.  And their clash would be concealed by the darkness of the night sky.  An added bonus.  No thanks necessary.

            Nearly a shoulder width apart, Tristan and Luigi raised their fists, ready for action.

            “May the best man win,” grinned Tristan.

            And then their battle began.

            The chorus of hooting owls and chirping crickets did little to drown out their yells and cries.  Nor could they muffle the distinct, sharp sounds of fists and feet meeting flesh and bone or bodies being repeatedly rammed into trees.  The only saving grace was that they were far from the public’s eyes and ears.  Thus, they didn’t even try to exercise restraint.  Resentment on both sides finally shot to the surface, and they continued to go at one another despite the pain inflicted by the opponent.  Tristan was impervious to the law, but he wasn’t impervious to Luigi’s brawn.  He could barely see from one eye, blood began to cloud whatever vision he had left and his entire body throbbed with pain.  He smiled a bloody smile as he noticed that the man in green was in likewise condition.  Without warning, he grabbed Luigi, put him in a clinch, and pinned him against a rough, sturdy tree, punching over and over as the man struggled.

            “Does this ring any bells for you?  Do you remember what you did to my friend in front of the entire Smash roster—including me?  Did you care how watching that would affect me?  Well, this is what it feels like!”

            Blood bubbled from Luigi’s mouth, but he dared not scream.  Thrusting his shoulder at Tristan, he escaped from the tree, doubled him over with a forward smash and then kneed him repeatedly.  A strong shot to the ear finished the combo.  Tristan knocked the feet out from under his opponent, who anticipated what he had in mind and aimed some fireballs at his face, getting to his feet while his foe was distracted.  It was very easy to grab Tristan and hit him with his signature butt tackle, karate-chopping him silly before grabbing and doing it all over again.  And it was oh, so easy for Tristan to break Luigi’s combos with a well-timed body blow and put him into a submission hold while pummeling him relentlessly.  Scarlet and crimson began to stain the grass as they wrestled and struggled.  Despite the aches and pains, it was Luigi who came out on top.

            From tree to tree, the tussle moved.  Here, a wild idea popped into Luigi’s mind.  He darted in front of a tree just as Tristan swung at him and sidestepped, causing the bully to smash his hand into the tree.  He yowled in pain as every last bone in his hand splintered to bits.  Luigi darted in and blitzed his opponent with smash attacks before doing the same thing to Tristan’s other hand.

            With his fists out of commission, Tristan tried kicking his opponent.  Instead, his ankle came in contact with another tree, pain shooting up his leg.  He hobbled about on the grass, and all it took was a spin kick to sprawl him on the ground.

            Tristan’s hands hurt—he couldn’t push himself back up.  Luigi crouched beside him, stroking his cheek with a soft, gloved hand.

            “Who’s number one?” asked Luigi.

            “You are,” Tristan replied weakly.

            “Remember that,” Luigi whispered in his ear.

            He seized Tristan by his collar and dragged him over to one of the widest trees in the area—the very tree where the recent effigy burning had taken place.

            “I’m—sorry—Stu…” murmured Tristan, staring at the sky.

            “You know, you made the same mistake he did,” observed Luigi.  “You underestimated me and thought of me as a weak coward.”

            Luigi slammed Tristan’s head backwards into the tree.

            “The only difference is, no one is here to portray you as the victim.  I don’t think anyone here will care if anything happens to you.”

            Slam.  Slam.

            “If you must know, I saw your disgusting exhibition earlier tonight.  And when it was over, I upchucked all over a bush.”

            “Good,” hissed Tristan.

            “Nice to see that you’re proud of yourself,” Luigi said to him.  “Tell Stu I said hello, okay?”

            The slamming sounds remained unheard in the deep of night.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Luigi entered the diner and slid into the counter seat, between Val and Samus.

            “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said sincerely.

            “We were in no rush,” said Val.

            “Did you run into Tristan?” asked Douglas.

            “I did,” replied Luigi, “but don’t worry.  He won’t harm anyone anymore.”

            “Good,” nodded Samus.

            Luigi turned to face Val.  “Somehow I knew you wouldn’t leave,” he said.

            “I couldn’t,” defended Val.

            “I know,” Luigi said softly.  “That’s what I’m going to miss about you.”

            Val froze.  “Wait—what are you talking about?”

            “My work here is done,” sighed Luigi, “but these bullies are everywhere, and I’ve got to stop them.  You’re needed here, Val.  To protect my fans in the City of Angels from any backlash.”

            “Where are you headed next?” questioned Samus.

            “Las Vegas, Nevada,” replied Luigi.  “That’s their next stronghold.  Following a few sidestops, of course.”

            “L,” said Val, “I didn’t want to admit this, but I was worried about you, alone in there with all those men.”

            “I knew you were,” said Luigi, “but I got out like I said I would, didn’t I?  It takes a lot to bring down the man in green.”

            “I want to come with you,” whispered Val.

            “And what about your business?” challenged Luigi.  “Val, I know that you want to protect me.  Every fan does.  But you have a job, and you made a promise to the people of Los Angeles—to protect and to serve them.  And though I got to the heart of their base here, there may be some scatters of haters, waiting to prey upon innocent supporters.  You’ll protect me—by protecting them.”

            Val thought it over.  “I guess you’re right,” he sighed.  “You were great company, though.”

            “Once these guys are gone, I’ll make sure to visit,” promised Luigi.

            “What about us?” Falcon wanted to know.  “What should we tell Master Hand?”

            “That I’m still alive—and that I’ll make this up to him when I get back,” Luigi said solemnly.

            “We’re gonna hold you to that!” Samus piped up.

            A server plopped four dishes of food in front of them.

            “Reubens,” said Luigi as he examined the sandwich with corned beef, sauerkraut, Swiss cheese and marble rye bread.

            “Today’s a very special day,” explained Val.

            “St. Patrick’s Day,” breathed Samus.

            “Deep down, I knew that it was time for me and L to part ways,” Val went on, “so why not go out on a high note?”

            “I agree,” said Luigi.

            “So do I,” said Falcon.

            “Me, too,” Samus joined in.

            As the quartet sat with their Reubens, they began to sing:

**Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling**

**From glen to glen, and down the mountain side**

**The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying**

**'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.**

**But come ye back when summer's in the meadow**

**Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow**

**'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow**

**Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.**

**And if you come, when all the flowers are dying**

**And I am dead, as dead I well may be**

**You'll come and find the place where I am lying**

**And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me.**

**And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me**

**And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be**

**If you'll not fail to tell me that you love me**

**I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.**

**I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.**

            They stayed at the diner until about 2a.m.  Then, Samus and Falcon decided to return to Subspace to report to Master Hand, while Val took Luigi back home for one last sleep under his roof.

            Luigi and Val slept in the next morning, the latter awakening the former with breakfast in bed.  They watched TV for a while, and then went to Val’s gym to spar one last time.  Luigi went to refuel and restock on snacks and other stuff he might need.  When he returned, he could tell that Val had been crying.  So, he did what anyone else would do—he hugged him.

            “I’m going to miss you,” sniffled Val, “so much.”

            “Ditto,” said Luigi, “but as I said, though our destinies were intertwined, they weren’t joined.  Perhaps they will be some other day.”

            “Here.  I want you to have this,” said Val as he undid a brooch from his jacket lapel and handed it to his idol.  “It’s always brought me luck.”

            “Thank you, Val,” said Luigi.  “Promise me—you’ll keep them safe?”

            “I’ll die for them,” vowed Val.

            Solemnly, the P.I. helped Luigi pack his things and lug them to the plumber’s car.  Beneath the warm, L.A. sun, the two men said their last farewell-for-now.  Then, Luigi got into his vehicle, started the engine, and bid adieu to the City of Angels and one of the best new friends he’d ever made, headed for the open road, for a world of uncertainty and for the Silver State of Nevada.


	28. Interlude: Letter to a Brother

**_Hey, Lil’ Bro,_ **

**_We really haven’t spoken like this for a while, haven’t we?  I guess it’s time for me to make up for that.  I’ll take full responsibility.  I’ve been so into my matches and training that—I shelved you again.  God knows I never wanted to do that._ **

**_Here at Smash, it’s been a bit different without you.  You may not know it, but all everyone talks about is you and your “trip”.  Ness, Lucas and Toon Link keep questioning when you’re going to be back.  I had no idea how good you are with the younger Smashers._ **

**_I am doing well, as is the tournament.  I won a few key battles against you-know-who, and I got to fight Corrin.  He’s so cool, turning into a dragon and all.  Speaking of Corrin, he’s really into Pit.  They recently came out publicly as a couple, and they like to date at Hot Topic or Brewster’s Café._ **

**_As for other romances, Peach and I haven’t tired of each other yet.  We really go at it in bed at night.  Your matchmaking skills have paid off, as Roy and Meta Knight have finally gotten together.  I visited the Vidads at Delfino Plaza, and they told me about a little trouble in paradise—and they’re not talking about their marriage.  Let’s just say it involves the sandy beaches being littered with hate._ **

**_Did you know that Rosalina is going out with Corrine?  Someone set them up on a blind date on Valentine’s Day, but they really are compatible.  I see them on lunch dates, shopping sprees and exploring the galaxies Rosie rules over.  Heck, I even caught them making out at one such galaxy!  I honestly did not see a romance between them coming._ **

**_Bayo is getting under Lucy’s skin—in a very good way.  Now, she’s battling it out with Palutena for her affections—and they have equal footing.  Palutena has her ways of getting under Lucy’s skin, too.  This triangle is quickly turning into a threesome, with these three ladies pretending not to grope and fondle each other at private booths, wetly kissing and doing God-knows-what-else in steam rooms, and Bayo prancing around Palutena wearing one of her “keyhole” costumes._ **

**_You have a lot to come home to when you get back._ **

**_Truth is, without your infectious smile, your blue eyes, your confident gait and your overall positive nature, Smash has lost its pop.  The battlefield isn’t as animated as it used to be.  The more serious fighters miss the challenge and surprises that you bring to them.  Even Koopa—I know he had a hand in some of this stuff, but he appears remorseful over it now.  Only time will tell if it’s genuine._ **

**_We all miss you so much, and I suppose I top the list of those who miss you the most.  Why do I feel responsible for you sneaking off in the dead of night to go on this mission?  I tried to warn the bullies to back off of you, yet they wouldn’t listen to me.  And I think about the times when I could’ve taken you in my arms and told you that everything was going to be okay, yet I didn’t.  You needed that comfort, and if I had given it, then maybe all of this would’ve panned out differently.  Tell you what, when you get back, I’ll give you an extra-special brotherly hug._ **

**_Imagine our relief when Samus and Douglas told us all that you were safe.  I’m telling you, the people you’re up against will show you no mercy.  I was also relieved upon hearing about the friend you’ve made in Los Angeles.  It’s nice to know that you’re not going alone on this.  Still, I wish I would’ve been there with you.  It would’ve been just like our RPG adventures, except that all of the enemies are different.  Maybe I’ll meet up with you later on your adventure._ **

**_I spoke to Master Hand, Crazy Hand and Master Core, and they feel awful for pushing you away.  They miss you more than you think they do, and believe it or not, they’re not angry with you for running away.  It’s just—they were trying to help your case when delving into the past like that.  It’s good not to look back sometimes, but though you’re nice and chummy now, Douglas and McCloud took the early tier lists too far._ **

**_Yet alas, you’re right.  So riveted were they on the past that the present slipped right under their radar.  When I heard about Paul, my gut wrenched.  I was tempted to call you, but for some reason, I didn’t, and I don’t know why.  Then, I saw the vulgar behavior at the effigy burnings, and all I could think about was you.  While you and Val were smoking Tristan and his band of turkeys, I was busy showing proof to the three final bosses and trying to convince them to dig deeper into this upheaval._ **

**_Bro, if you allow yourself to imagine that your fellow Smashers are waiting in the wings to help you bring these hoodlums to justice, I can tell you, they will.  We can help you.  And we want to help you.  Please, Bro, let us._ **

**_With this letter is an album, filled to the brim with photos of us and well-wishes from Smashers old and new.  Before you go to bed each night, I want you to look through this album and to feel the surrounding presence of the many people who love you and wish to take care of you.  You’ll also find some Mushrooms, 1-Ups, Fire Flowers and Invincibility Stars from Peach.  And some of your good friends have some goodies stashed in there, too.  You’ll never know what you might find!_ **

**_I’m serious, though—you can count on us, because none of us know what’s ahead.  We’re just a phone call away if you need someone familiar to talk to.  And remember—we’re here for you, Bro.  Always._ **

****

****

**_Ti amo,_ **

**_Mario_ **

**Ramblers in the wilderness we can’t find what we need.**

**Get a little restless from the searching**

**Get a little worn down in between.**

**Like a bull chasing the matador is the man left to his on schemes.**

**Everybody needs someone beside ’em, shining like a lighthouse from the sea.**

**Brother, let me be your shelter.**

**I’ll never leave you all alone.**

**I can be the one you call**

**When you’re low.**

**Brother, let me be your fortress**

**When the night winds are driving on**

**Be the one to light the way**

**Bring you home.**

**Face down in the desert now there’s a cage locked around my heart.**

**I found a way to drop the keys where my failures were**

**Now my hands can’t reach that far.**

**I’m not made for a rivalry I could never take the world alone.**

**I know that in my weakness I am strong**

**But it’s your love that brings me home.**

**Brother, let me be your shelter!**

**I’ll never leave you all alone!**

**I can be the one you call**

**When you’re low.**

**Brother let me be your fortress**

**When the night winds are driving on!**

**Be the one to light the way**

**Bring you home…**

**And when you call and need me near**

**Sayin’ where’d you go?**

**Brother, I’m right here!**

**And on those days when the sky begins to fall**

**You’re the blood of my blood**

**We can get through it all!**

**Brother, let me be your shelter!**

**I’ll never leave you all alone!**

**I can be the one you call**

**When you’re feelin’ low!**

**Brother, let me be your fortress**

**When the night winds are driving on!**

**Be the one to light the way**

**Bring you home!**

**Brother, let me be your shelter!**

**I’ll never leave you all alone!**

**I can be the one you call,**

**When you’re low.**

**Brother, let me be your fortress**

**When the night winds are driving on!**

**Be the one to light the way**

**Bring you home.**

**Be the one the light the way…**

**Bring you home.**

**\--Needtobreathe, “Brother”**


	29. Hello

            “It’s been weeks now,” fretted Master Hand, “and he still hasn’t talked to us.”

            “Has he spoken to Mario?” asked Crazy Hand.

            “Yes, and they exchange postcards and letters,” Master told him.  “How come he can’t trust us like he trusts him?”

            “We haven’t given him a reason to, poking our noses in affairs we can’t go back and change instead of directly addressing what’s going on out there,” said Master Core.  “I tried to call him—kept getting kicked to voicemail.”

            “It’s like what Peach said,” said Master.  “He’ll talk to us when he’s ready.”

            The phone rang.

            “Magic words,” said Crazy.

            Master picked up the receiver.  “Hello?”

            “Thank you for giving me time, Master Hand.”

            Master gasped.  “Luigi?!”

**Hello, it’s me.**

**I was wondering if after all these years, you’d like to meet,**

**To go over everything;**

**They say that time’s supposed to heal you, but I’ve not done much healing…**

            “Hey, MH.  It’s been a long time since I’ve heard your voice,” said Luigi.  “Is everyone okay?”

            “Oh, yeah.  Everyone’s fine,” Master responded.  “They’re asking the same thing about you, though.”

            “I know.  I’m getting letters, cards, trinkets—but nothing from you.”  So many roiling feelings were behind those words.

            “L, we’re not upset.  I know you think we are, but we’re not.  We blame ourselves.  For everything,” sighed Master.

            “Well, I have to take some of the blame for this mess,” Luigi said softly.  “It wasn’t fair for me to run away from you and make you worry like that.”

            “You ran away from us because we weren’t paying enough attention to you,” sighed Master Hand.  “We were too busy probing into the whole tier list chaos of tournaments past.”

            “Why were you looking into my past with Douglas and Fox?” Luigi wanted to know.

            “We were searching for a root to all of this nonsense,” explained Master, “and I observed that on the very day the tier list came out, those things started happening to you.”

            “Yeah.  We were all a big, happy family until then.”

            “Why didn’t you come to me when Falcon got drunk and insulted you?” Master wanted to know.  “Engaging him in an unsanctioned fight like that was wrong.”

            “Yes,” said Luigi, “but it felt so deliciously right.”

            “You must’ve knocked quite a few back, because I wouldn’t expect you to react in such a fashion,” Master Hand told him.  “Why choose aggression when there’s assertion?”

            “I _was_ asserting myself, Master Hand,” Luigi said fiercely as the memories came back.  “From the arcade days up till that point, I could handle being taken for granted.  But the final straw was coming here, hoping I could show them all that I was my own person, and then getting a big middle finger in my face from Mr. Sakurai himself.  Then, that racer comes barging in, reeking of alcohol, and says that I’m a loser.  A last place loser!”

            “Okay, L, calm down.  I’m not accusing you of anything.  I kind of got why you did it, which is why I didn’t punish you.”

            “How did you know about that, anyway?” Luigi wanted to know.

            “I watched some of it,” confessed Master.

            “I should’ve known.  Well, it worked, didn’t it?  After a while, he got it through his head that I wasn’t a loser or a n—b, and after I laid him out to dry in a few matches, I got all that anger out of me.  So, we decided to start off fresh.”

            “Wait.  He called you a n—b?” gasped Master.

            “Yep.  He did.  But I got past that.”

            “I see,” said Master Hand.  “So, my bounty hunter friends tell me that you’re headed for Vegas.”

            “I am.”

            “Just—be careful.  And Godspeed.”

            “Thanks, Master Hand.”

            “We’re truly sorry we weren’t there for you, but we are now,” intoned Master.  “You have to let us come in and help.  You have to.”

            “I—I’ll try,” Luigi said.

            “Don’t try, L.  Do.”

**Hello, can you hear me?**

**I’m in California, dreaming about who we used to be,**

**When we were younger and free;**

**I’ve forgotten how it felt before the world fell at our feet.**

            “Still, we wish you’d told us,” said Master.  “That way, we’d have some clue as to where you’re headed and why.”

            “I just—didn’t think you’d understand.”

            “We do, L.  We do now.”

            Luigi drew a shaky breath.  “I want us to start over, Master Hand,” he said, his voice permeated with emotion.  “I want us to trust each other again.”

            “Of course,” nodded Master.  “Could you meet us halfway.”

            “Of course,” whispered Luigi.

            “Where are you calling from?” asked Master.

            “Best Western in Sacramento,” smiled Luigi.  “I’m making a few side-stops along the way.” 

            “Please come home to us soon,” said Master.

            “I will.  I promise.”

**There’s such a difference between us,**

**And a million miles—**

            A Toad came to fetch Mario after his last battle for the day, an excited look in his eyes.  “It’s him!” he cried.

            Mario wasted no time taking the phone the Toad proffered to him.  “Bro?  Is that you?” he gasped.

            “I miss you, too, Big Bro,” replied Luigi.  “I saw a musical at the Community Center Theatre in Sacramento earlier tonight.  And you’ll never guess what it was.”

            “What was it?”

            “ _West Side Story_.  The first musical we ever saw together.  It was like I was young again, growing up in the Big Apple,” smiled Luigi.  “Maybe I’ll bring you along next time.”

            “I’d like that very much,” Mario said softly.

**Hello from the other side…**

**I must’ve called a thousand times…**

**To tell you I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done,**

**But when I call you never seem to be home…**

            “Look, Mario, you have to stop blaming yourself every time something happens to me,” Luigi said after a beat.

            “I can’t help it,” said Mario.  “I love you so much.  And I want to shield you from anyone trying to harm you.  Even before that, you’ve held so much inside you, and maybe that’s because I didn’t lend you an ear when you need it.”

            “Right now, the fact that I’m hearing your voice is the only thing that matters,” Luigi told him.  “I’m crashing at the Red Lion Hotel tonight.  It’s right across from Cal Expo.  Maybe I’ll hit Arden Fair Mall tomorrow before continuing on my way.”

            “Are you comfortable?” asked Mario.

            “Even more comfy, thanks to you,” said Luigi.  “Sometimes, I think about Val, and I feel bad about leaving him like that.  But he texts me sometimes to let me know he’s all right.”

            “What’s your plan now?” asked Mario.

            “I land in Las Vegas, and go through the same drill.  And who knows?  Maybe I’ll gain another ally.”

            “Or a familiar face,” piped up Mario.

            “I mean what I say.  You’re not responsible for any of this.  And while I wished for more of your comfort when I was uncovering all of this, I can never hold it against you.”

            “Thanks, Bro,” sighed Mario.  “It’s just—I keep thinking about that Star Gate’s treatment of you.  And the Chaos Heart business.  And your hidden power in Brawl.  If I had allowed you to vent…”

            “Don’t start,” warned Luigi.  “What happened has happened, and the best you can do is stop stressing over it.”

            “Yeah.  Guess so.  It was so nice talking to you, L.”

            “You too, Bro.  And—thank you for that letter.”

            “You’re welcome.”

**Hello from the outside…**

**At least I can say that I’ve tried…**

**To tell you I’m sorry for breaking your heart,**

**But it don’t matter; it clearly doesn’t tear you apart anymore…**

            The next day, Peach was primping when Mario walked in and handed her the phone.

            “Weegee called.”

            Peach put the phone to her ear.  “Luigi!” she cried excitedly.

            “Hey, Princess.  Any kidnappings lately?”

            “No, thank God.”

**Hello, how are you?**

**It’s so typical of me to talk about myself; I’m sorry.**

**I hope that you’re well.**

**Did you ever make it out of that town where nothing ever happened?**

            “Perhaps that overgrown turtle’s having some guilt weighing on him?” asked Luigi.

            “Guilt over what?  Partaking in the Daisy bashing?  Probably,” scoffed Peach, “or he’s scared to taste my frying pan and other handy gadgets!”

            “It must feel really good to hand his tail to him here,” mused Luigi.  “That’s been the case for me since Melee.”

            “You can say that again,” chuckled Peach.  “Now, enough talk about my kidnapper.  Let’s talk about you.  How was L.A.?”

            “Lively,” replied Luigi.  “I’ll probably come back sometime.”

            “Well, the next time you’re going to go on an unannounced road trip, could you at least talk it over with us?” asked Peach in a half-stern tone.  “You barely gave us a full day’s notice.”

            “I know, and I regret that,” sighed Luigi.  “How can I make it up to you?”

            “We’ll discuss that later,” said Peach.  “Do you need me to send you more items?”

            “Not yet, but thanks, though.”

            “When you come back, I insist that you see Dr. Mario, and then Dr. Toadley back in our home world,” said Peach.  “Am I clear?”

            “Yes, Princess.”

            “A lot of people did a lot of awful things to you, and it’s best that you get those feelings out in the open,” Peach went on.  “I think—I think you need to see a psychiatrist.  But that’s too far in the future.”

            “It is.  But I’ll think about it.  All right?”

            “All right.”

            “Stay safe, Princess.”

            “You, too, L.”

**It’s no secret that the both of us**

**Are running out of time…**

            Ness and Lucas sat, awaiting a Team Battle, when a Mr. Saturn walked up to them.  “Phone for you,” it said.

            Ness answered it.  “Hello?”

            “How’s my psychic pal doing?”

            “Oh, my gosh!  Luigi!”

            Luigi smiled.  “I ran into somebody you might know,” he said.

            “Who?” asked Ness.

            “Porky,” explained Luigi.  “He was in league with the bullies I’m after.  And he was going to hurt you and Lucas.”

            “Did he hurt you?”

            “We had a fight, but I was able to overpower him,” Luigi assured him.  “He told me that you two were the reason why he was going after me.  Because—we’re friends and all.”

            “That must’ve made you very upset,” reasoned Ness.

            “I was, and his words also had me worried for your safety.  If I hadn’t caught him in L.A., then…”

            “Yeah.  Good save,” shuddered Ness.

            “You’re a very strong friend of mine, you know,” Luigi told him.  “I mean, not only did we start off as secret characters together, we also—basically saved Smash together.  Do you remember?”

            “I remember it well,” smiled Ness.  “You, me and Triple D were destined to be ‘The Three Musketeers’.  Too bad that didn’t pan out…”

            “You knew what he did, too?” asked Luigi.

            “After you two fought, I saw that video.”

            “Well, we needn’t talk about that anymore,” Luigi said to him.  “What I’m trying to say is that since you and Lucas have looked out for me, I’m going to return the favor and look out for you.”

            “I’m happy you called, L.”

            “So am I.”

**Hello from the other side…**

**I must’ve called a thousand times…**

**To tell you I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done,**

**But when I call, you never seem to be home…**

            “How have you been holding up since I left?” asked Luigi.

            Ness sighed.  “It’s difficult to say.  You left so suddenly.  Only a few words to us, and then bam.”

            “I had to do what I had to do,” said Luigi.

            “I’m happy that you’re standing up to these people,” said Ness, “but all of us miss you and worry for you.  In spite of the haters you have breathing down your neck, just remember your friends.”

            “I certainly will.”

            There was a pause as Ness passed the phone to Lucas.

            “I thought you were a goner, L,” said the blonde psychic.

            “Nope.  I’m alive and well.  What made you think that?”

            “Rumors,” explained Lucas.

            “Well, those rumors are lies,” said Luigi.  “Not even a thousand men can cut me down.”

            “You missed some exciting matches,” Lucas told him.  “Want me to tell you about them when you get back?”

            “Sure.”

**Hello from the outside…**

**At least I can say that I’ve tried…**

**To tell you I’m sorry for breaking your heart,**

**But it don’t matter; it clearly doesn’t tear you apart anymore…**

            “Are you by yourself?” asked Lucas.

            “Right now, yes.  I’m resting at the Holiday Inn in Elk Grove, California.  But in L.A., I made a new friend named Val.  He saw me through some tough times there.”

            “We’d like to meet him,” said Lucas.

            “I’ll arrange something.”

            “Sammy told us that you’re going to Vegas.”

            “I am,” said Luigi.  “Disrupting the stronghold there will be a critical hit.”

            “And from there?”

            “I’ll be headed east, for New York City.  I heard that the bullies established their main command center there.”

            “Didn’t you grow up there?”

            “I did.  I’ll know that city off the top of my head.”

            “The best of luck to you, L.  Just—try not to be a lone wolf about this, all right?”

            “All right.”

            More days, more phone calls.  More tearful conversations.  More how’ve-you-beens.  More catching up.  More speeches and admonishments on how Luigi was missed and why he took off on his mission so suddenly.  It was Luigi who initiated all of the calls, for since he and Val parted ways, he experienced storms of emotions, from loneliness and longing to guilt and remorse.  What he’d seen and experienced so far sufficiently shook him up and left him with the urge to let everyone know that he was still standing—and to finally break his silence toward Master, Crazy and MC.  So, as he traveled southward, he called whenever and wherever he could.  In restaurants, in hotel rooms and at phone booths (where they still existed).  To the Smashers he’d known since the good old days and to the newcomers.  And after each call, Luigi felt soothed, forgiven, comforted—and loved.

**Hello from the other side…**

**I must’ve called a thousand times…**

**To tell you I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done,**

**But when I call you never seem to be home…**

            Early one morning, Luigi called Daisy from a hotel room in Galt.

            “L, I’m overjoyed to know you’re safe,” she said.

            “Same here,” Luigi said.  “Look outside; the sun’s coming up.”

            Daisy peered out her bedroom window, smiling at the sunrise.  “It’s so beautiful,” she breathed.

            “And so are you.”

            The two lovers continued to chat up one another as they watched the sun climb higher in the sky.

            “Hey, listen, L,” Daisy said finally.  “I want you to know that however you decide to approach this situation, I’ll support you.”

            “Thanks, Daisy.  I—I don’t want to miss this.”

            “Miss what?” questioned Daisy.

            “ _This_ ,” replied Luigi.

            And Daisy knew exactly what her beloved was talking about.

**Hello from the outside…**

**At least I can say that I’ve tried…**

**To tell you I’m sorry for breaking you heart,**

**But it don’t matter; it clearly doesn’t tear you apart anymore…**


	30. Sunset in Paradise

**What can I do to comfort you?**

**Don’t hide away in solitude.**

**What can I say to show the way?**

**Let tears become a soft rain…**

**\--Enya**

           

            The newlywed couple’s bodies thrashed in an orgiastic frenzy upon the bed, the groom fully sheathed inside his bride.  Her brunette hair was splattered all over her pillow, her head thrown back, shrieking with desire at his deep, ardent thrusts.  The honeymoon had been going on for quite a while now; yet this never got old.  They could barely keep their hands off of each other, but at least they had themselves in extreme emergencies.  When they _could_ keep their hands to themselves, they frolicked on the beach and in the water, ate seafood, shopped and chatted up the friendly Piantas while checking out popular tourist attractions.  Delfino Plaza was _the_ honeymoon destination, and Mr. and Mrs. Vidad could attest to that.

            “C-can’t—hold it—any—longer!” panted Evan.

            “Then don’t!” squealed Mandy.

            “Yes, Mrs. V!”  And with a mighty spasm, Evan allowed himself to explode inside his wife as stars flashed behind his eyes.  When the spill was done, he remained in her for a few minutes before snaking his way out.  His mouth and tongue did the rest of the work, tasting traces of himself that didn’t quite make it inside the opening.  She always lasted the longest, and he couldn’t help but wonder what her secret was.  Not that it was a bad thing…

            Her voice chanting his name along with God’s name (what a sin) stirred Little Evan back to life, and it wasn’t long before the tiny guy once again took his rightful place.  His wife was covered in sweat and sloppy kisses, as was he, except that red lipstick stains colored several areas on his body.  He hugged her close to him, kissing her tenderly and whispering to her before trailing his tongue all the way back down her curvaceous form and going back to eating her out.  He alternated about four or five times before she finally lost the battle, her juices making him burst again.

            They cuddled, catching their breath and getting their wits about them, sipping mai tais and nibbling on bite-sized pizza bagels and other goodies.

            “What a honeymoon this is,” breathed Evan.

            “Tell me about it,” sighed Mandy.  “I’m glad L recommended this place to us.”

            “The only flaw is the matches taking place sometimes,” said Evan.

            “Hey, free entertainment,” shrugged Mandy.

            “Yeah, but what if we’re in our—moods?”

            “Evan, we’re so far away that they don’t hear us,” eyerolled Mandy.

            “Good point,” said Evan.  He cleared his throat.  “So—are you thinking about…?”

            “Kind of,” Mandy said softly.  “We still have matches, and Master Hand can only bend so far backwards.  You?”

            “Same,” said Evan.  “Boy or girl?”

            “Let fate decide.”

            “Well, considering how many hours we’re clocking on this bed, I won’t be surprised if we already set the necessary events into motion,” quipped Evan.

            “Oh, Evan.”

            They fell back onto the soft bed, French kissing and fondling, before kicking off round two (or three, or five, or eleven).  But just as they were about to reach the big finish—

            Loud whistles and pops shattered the serene atmosphere.  The newlyweds jumped, eyes flying to the window.  There, they saw the unmistakable sparkles of firecrackers!

            “Is someone setting those off near our villa?” asked Evan.

            “Looks like it,” Mandy said briskly.  “I’ll get the fire extinguisher.”

            “I’ll get some damp towels,” added Evan.

            He picked her up and carried her to the bathroom, where the two of them grabbed some towels and threw them into the sink to soak them, all the while continuing their little romp. 

            “Gah!  There isn’t much time!” warned Mandy as more firecrackers were set off. 

            “Blame the adrenaline, not me,” shrugged Evan.

            “Oh, for the love of Pete!” growled Mandy, taking hold of her husband’s member and pumping him with deep, circular strokes.

            Evan shouted as he was pushed to the limit, and it was at the critical moment that Mandy encircled her mouth around all seven-and-a-half inches of him and let the white liquid gold pour down her throat.

            “Thanks.  I needed that,” gasped Evan.

            “Anytime,” nodded Mandy.  “Now let’s get to work.”

            The couple threw on some clothes, armed themselves with the damp towels and a fire extinguisher each, and as soon as they were outside the villa, they let it rip.

            Cries of surprise let the two know that they’d blindsided the perpetrators, a big bonus.  Through the smoke and spray, they made out two figures, retreating in the face of this defensive front.  The duo ran out of towels, yet they continued their assault with their fire extinguishers, this time aiming for the perps.  In no time flat, they had them pinned under jets of fire extinguisher foam.

            “Stop!  We yield!  We yield!” shouted one perp, waving a makeshift white flag.

            Reluctantly, Mandy and Evan ceased their assault.

            “Get up,” Mandy ordered the trespassers, which they did.

            “Please, don’t turn us in,” one of them whimpered.  “We’ll tell you everything!”

            “Is your secret valuable enough to make it worthwhile that we not call the police?” asked Evan. 

“Yes,” the two perps said as one, “if you think freedom is valuable to a young, loving and beautiful couple as you two.”

            “Then start singing,” snapped Mandy.  “Who sent you to harass us?”

            One perp swallowed.  “A man.  I don’t know who he is, but he’s known as Spike.”

            “You don’t know him, and yet you know his name?” challenged Evan.

            “My friend knows him, and he told me,” the perp quickly explained.  “He mostly dealt with the guy, not me.  We possess a letter from him which may interest you.”

            The friend nodded, thrusting forward a piece of paper.  “We needed the money,” he said, sweating.  “I offered my pal here to take him into it with me, and he agreed.”

            “How much did this Spike fellow pay you to see this done?” asked Mandy.

            “Three grand each,” said the perps.

            “At least he thinks we’re worth something,” deadpanned Evan.  “Where is this Spike guy hiding?”

            “How should we know?  He barely tells us anything except what he wants us to do!”

            “You mean you’ve done this in the past?” asked Mandy.

            The perps nodded, ashamed.  “Yes.”

            “He says he wants to bring this man to his knees,” said one of them, handing the couple a photo.

            “Oh, my God,” moaned Evan.  “They’re out to get L.  We’d better warn him!”

            “All right,” Mandy said to the trespassers.  “Here’s the dealio.  You’re going to leave these premises and wait until Evan and I are finished with some private business.  We will then go to the police station, where you will confess everything you did and everything you know.  In exchange, we won’t disrupt our green-clad friend’s travel plans.  This is a one-time offer, and it’s not subject to negotiation.  Are we clear?”

            “Yes.”

            “Good,” said Mandy and Evan in unison. 

            They walked back inside without looking back.

            “How on Earth did they know we’re associated with him?” Evan wanted to know.

            “I don’t know, but we’d better warn his other friends!” said Mandy.  “Who’s to say they won’t go after Mario, either?”

            “They wouldn’t dare.  Mario’s too famous,” eyerolled Evan.  “But I have a feeling that Koopa is living a double life.  He’s pretending to sympathize with us, while at the same time helping these people.”

            “Hmm.  Something to look into,” mused Mandy.

            “Before we do that, though…” Evan kissed Mandy and began peeling off her clothes.  “…we’re both quite wired from that mishap.  Don’t you think we need to decompress before making our next move?”

            After getting his wife nude, he, too, discarded his clothing.  The two marveled for a moment at the lean, toned, taut and magnificent bodies before them.

            “Those guys might try to make a break for it,” Mandy whispered softly as she nipped Evan’s ear.

            Two surprised cries sounded outside, followed by thumping and metal clanging.

            “I guess word spreads quickly here,” mused Evan before going to work with lips and tongue.

            Four hours later, Evan had her shuddering, sweating and saying all sorts of gibberish.  Her hips gave off quick spasms which set off a thrumming sensation within her husband.  The adrenaline rush of putting out firecrackers had really taken its hold on both of them.  Evan had positively exploded inside of her many times, but he knew how to hold it in so that the experience would blow both of their minds.  After multiple explosions, her insides pulsed madly and her body writhed, the overpowering sensations increasing turn after turn.  It was another hour before Evan crafted for her the biggest finish of her life, drawing his tongue over her torso as surge after surge coursed through her.  Surprisingly, the only sounds she made were some slow, heavy breaths, breaths which made her stomach muscles puff in and out like bellows.

            “Evan…” she breathed.  “I think I feel better now.”

            “Me, too,” Evan said, wiping his brow.  “Do you think we should head over to the police station and check on those vandals?”

            The phone rang, and Mandy answered with an expecting “Hello?”

            “Mrs. Vidad?”

            “Speaking.”

            “This is the chief of the Isle Delfino Police.  We have those vandals who set off fireworks near your villa in custody.”

            “Did they say anything?”

            “They’re threatening to lawyer up.  I personally wonder who wants to represent slime like them.”

            “The man they answer to, Spike,” said Mandy.  “Heard of him?”

            “His subordinates have stirred up trouble for us as long as I can remember.”

            “Oh?  How come we didn’t know about this before planning our honeymoon?”

            “I guess word got out about you two and your closeness to—that man.”

            “He’s not ‘that man’.  He is our best friend and a victim of relentless bullying,” Mandy said firmly.  “You sound like you’re holding _him_ responsible.  Is it because of the whole ‘Shadow Mario’ fiasco?  You do know he was framed, yes?”

            “No, ma’am, it’s not about that.  We’re getting as much as we can out of these two, and from what they’re telling us, the stunt they’ve pulled is part of this—warfare—against your friend.  We’ll look into Spike and what he’s up to.”

            “Do you need us to come down for questioning or anything?”

            “Not at the moment.  We’ll keep you posted.”

            “Thanks.  Bye,” Mandy said curtly before hanging up.  To Evan, she said, “Something’s fishy about that police chief.”

            “I heard,” he said.  “Looks like the honeymoon’s over.”

            “Looks that way,” said Mandy.  “Time to get down to business.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            In Livingston, California, there was a popular truck stop and travel center known as TA.  Offering various amenities such as Lotto tickets, fuel and food, as well as 24-hour service, TA was the go-to pit stop not only for truckers, but also for tour buses and people just passing through.

            The pumps were busy, crowded with gasoline-starved vehicles.  As the cars fueled, the drivers and passengers stretched their legs, sore from sitting in a vehicle for so long.  When the fueling stopped, lines formed outside of restrooms so full bladders could empty.  Families passed their Little Oscar coolers around for drinks.  Bags of chips, pretzels, cheddar-flavored popcorn and other snacks were snagged from shelves, while kids ragged their parents for ice-cream and candy.  Many varieties of tea and coffee were available, along with flavors upon flavors of delightfully chilly smoothies and shakes.  Burgers and pizza, check.  But not all their merchandise was edible.  TA sold games, DVD movies and hardware such as flashlights.  There was a small arcade to kill some time.  And all of this was located inside an air-conditioned building.  Perfect.

            And it was here at TA that a certain green-capped traveler was resting his somewhat weary bones.

            Luigi inserted a gasoline pump into his gas tank and watched the numbers count upward.  What a drive this had been so far!  The exhilarating ride down southbound Highway 99 had been snag-free until he pulled into Lodi.  There, a posse of thugs had given him some trouble.  It had all been settled in Smash, behind a restaurant and concealed by a few Dumpsters.  Those tough-talking youngsters headed for trouble were no match for Luigi’s special moves or his Star Sprites.  Once it was over, the man in green had called the police, made his report and continued on his way.

            _Click_.  His car was finished refueling.  Gently, he eased the pump out and replaced it before closing his gas tank.  He stepped inside the building to wash his hands and smiled as the air conditioner hit his face.  The weather was unusually warm for spring.  Once he’d attended to his business in the men’s room, he decided to browse through the selection of edible and nonedible wares.  Ultimately, he settled for a blue-raspberry smoothie, a cheeseburger and some fries.

            “Hey—aren’t you Luigi Mario?” asked the lady manning the front.

            “Yes,” he said brightly.  “How are you today?”

            “Very good, thanks.  Um—a Princess Toadstool left a parcel for you.  Shall I fetch it for you?”

            “How did she know…?” breathed Luigi.

            “She’s a princess.  Princesses know everything about their subjects,” surmised the lady as she handed him the parcel.

            Inside was a mix of Super and 1Up Mushrooms, Fire Flowers, Power Stars and some nice-sized slices of cake.  There was also an album of mysterious photos.

            _Watch out for this man,_ read the attached note.  _His name is Spike, and his influence extends across several cities.  He’s already made his home at Isle Delfino, and no doubt Las Vegas is his “mother brain”.  Stopping him is your top priority._

            Spike!  He’d received a call from Evan earlier, telling him that dealing with two vandals led to the discovery of another link in the network of bullies, and the name had come up.  He knew there was a reason that Vegas was one of his side-stops!

            He turned back to the lady.  “Thanks,” he said.

            “Anytime,” she smiled.

            Evelyn Fisk was thirty-five years old, hailing from the nearby city of Lodi.  When she was a little girl, she and her brother played _Super Mario Bros_. together, with her controlling Luigi, and she’d always beat his score.  Same thing for _SMB2, SMB3_ , _Super Mario World_ and all of the Mario Kart games.  One night in her college dorm room, she beat _Luigi’s Mansion_ with an “A” rank after countless nights of frustration over the final boss.  Nowadays, when she wasn’t working a shift at TA, she was closely following the Smash tournaments, working on beating _Dark Moon_ and waging a secret war against cyberbullies.

            “Will I see you again?” asked Luigi.  His eyes flew to her nametag.  “Evelyn?”

            “Depends,” winked Evelyn.  “Oh, and by the way, five men have been giving you the evil eye since you got here.  Their intentions are—most unsavory.”

            “I’ll keep that in mind,” said Luigi.  “Thanks again.”

            “I’ve got your back, L,” promised Evelyn, eyeing a golf club leaning against the far end of the counter.

            Luigi made himself comfortable at a table well-hidden from view and began to eat his lunch.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            “Val.  It’s me.”

            “Good to hear your voice, Evelyn.  How is he?”

            “Okay, for the time being.  But he’s being watched by five men.  I’m getting a bad vibe from those five men.”

            “Don’t worry so much; I’m sure he’ll take them.  But if not, you’re in a position to help, yes?”

            “I am.  I’ll keep you posted, K?”

            “K.”

            Luigi’s fans stuck together.  Val and Evelyn had been pen pals since the man in green gained prominence in the early Mario Kart races.  Phone conversations as well as letters flew between them, and they met in person at Smash conventions, Comic Cons and while spectating Smash matches.  They had grown closer defending Luigi against the online hate, and Evelyn had been among those apprising Val of the increasingly urgent situation.  As soon as Luigi had departed the City of Angels, Val had phoned Evelyn, asking her to watch for the plumber’s arrival and to keep him safe.  And as God was her witness, she’d keep to that promise!

            Now, the fingers of one hand were wrapped around the golf club as she laid it across her lap, training her security monitors on the five suspicious men, trying not to draw attention to herself.  Seemingly oblivious, Luigi played with his iPhone while popping French fries into his mouth or taking bites out of his burger.  Ketchup, mustard and burger juice stained his mouth and ’stache, and he occasionally dabbed at the mess with his napkin.  Those five men were pretending to read magazines, look over items or ponder over the menu, but Evelyn wasn’t fooled.  She knew by the looks they kept sneaking at Luigi that they had something planned—and it didn’t involve making purchases at her store.

            “You guys gonna buy something, or are you just gonna lurk around?” she finally asked them.  “I have a strict policy against loitering.”

            “Apologies, miss,” one man mumbled.  “I’m on a tight budget, and I don’t know what to get.”

            Realizing they were _too_ conspicuous, the five men trudged outside and huddled together in the parking lot.

            That was when Evelyn decided to call the police.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            From the second Luigi entered the men’s restroom and was jumped, he was ready.  He’d come here for some gas in his car, some food in his belly and a breather from CA 99, and he wasn’t going to take _this_ laying down!  The five men thought that they could sneak around the back and enter the men’s room through the window, but as soon as Evelyn told him about the possible danger, his eyes and ears were wide open.  Yells, thuds, bumps, cries and fists against faces and bodies rang in the small room as the man in green determinedly held his ground.  With his fighting skills, Luigi showed those five that his game wasn’t about to end, not here, not now, and especially not at their hands.  He forward smashed and karate chopped the majority of them into submission before long, but it turned out that he underestimated the rage of the last two.

            They grabbed at him, yanked at his hair, bashed his face repeatedly against one of the sinks and then threw him to the ground, where they let their fists tell him how they felt about him.  When their knuckles couldn’t take it anymore, they slid off their belts and let Luigi have it with the side that had the buckle, all the while laughing and jeering and calling him names.

            Yet their sadism was no match for the lean, green fighting machine, who attacked them with his fireballs before rolling to his feet and barreling into one of them with his Green Missile.  Then, he let his fists and feet fly despite the stinging and throbbing, his body like a jumping bean so they wouldn’t get their grubby hands on him again, doing his Cyclone attack when they least expected it.

            But then the other three just _had_ to come to their senses and happily rejoin the fight.  They had their moves and Luigi had his, but it eventually ended up with the plumber in bad trouble, being pinned and throttled and beaten and scratched and only God knows what else.  Yet despite being used as a piñata, he refused to scream or yell for help.

            The door blew open, a high-heeled shoe making contact with the jaw of the man doing the throttling—and as soon as Luigi could breathe again, he saw a golf club whistle through the air and encounter the cranium of another man.  He loved the satisfying _crack_ at the moment of impact and the pained sounds the hapless man made as he toppled to the floor.  The high heel now jabbed into the solar plexus of assailant number three, leaving him yowling.  Back on his feet, Luigi let his elbow connect with the man lunging toward his rescuer and then slammed him several times against a bathroom mirror.  Meanwhile, the rescuer and the fifth man struggled near the urinals, and as soon as Luigi was finished with the fourth man, he ran over and knocked the feet out from under the interloper, allowing his savior the bring the golf club down on the back of the neck.

            Then came silence, followed by the distant scream of police sirens.

            “You’re going to be okay,” promised the brave Evelyn, pulling Luigi into her arms.  “I promise.”

            “Mamma mia—you’re amazing,” Luigi complimented her.

            “Yeah.  So are you,” Evelyn wryly answered.

            “ _Grazie_ ,” Luigi breathed as he heard the police racing nearer.  “ _Grazie mille_.”

            “We’re here for you, L,” winked Evelyn.  “Always.”

             


	31. The Usual Suspects: Smashville's Finest

**You’re an overcomer;**

**Stay in the fight till the final round!**

**You’re not going under,**

**‘Cause God is holding you right now…**

**You might be down for a moment, feeling like it’s hopeless.**

**That’s when He reminds you**

**That you’re an overcomer;**

**You’re an overcomer!**

**\--Mandisa**

            “So, he’s trying to extort money from you?” Mandy questioned a Pianta.

            “Yes, and doing much worse,” nodded the Pianta.  “He and his friends are trying to use our lovely island as a stronghold, but we won’t let him!”

            “Have you told the police about their actions?” asked Evan.

            “Always the same.  Case dismissed due to lack of evidence,” sighed the Pianta.

            “I should’ve known,” murmured Mandy.  “The police chief seemed a little—off—when I spoke to him.”

            “What are you talking about?” asked the Pianta.

            “Don’t tell anyone, but we’re going to look deeper into this,” said Mandy.

            “Yeah!  No one spoils our honeymoon and gets away with it!” Evan led the charge.  “Plus, they’re out to get their paws on our friend.  Now, it’s _really_ personal.”

            “Come inside,” invited the Pianta.  “I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

 _Later that night_ …

            The door to the holding cell slid open with a soft hiss.  Inside, the two vandals bolted awake.

            “Who’s there?” one of them roughly asked.

            “Quiet.  Come quickly,” whispered the police chief as he peeked his head inside.

            The vandals tiptoed out, the chief handing them their things.

            “It’s about time you worked your magic,” said the first vandal.  “I was beginning to think you’ve been found out.”

            “I leave no loose ends,” boasted the chief as he led the criminals outside.  “Don’t worry; the evidence has been taken care of.  There’s an orange Chevy waiting for you in the parking lot, keys in the ignition.  All you have to do is get in and drive.  Follow the instructions I programmed into the GPS, and you’ll reach Fresno and our reptilian friend in no time.”

            “What about…?” started the second vandal, but the chief of police silenced him.

            “No.  Loose.  Ends,” he said emphatically.  “First, though, I plan to have a swell shindig with them.  Especially the girl.”  He licked his lips lustfully.  “For a new bride, she sure looks delicious.”

            “If it weren’t for our friend the turtle meeting up with us in Fresno, I would’ve helped myself to her,” growled the first vandal.

            “Me, too,” hissed the second.

            “I’ll take care of those newlyweds in due time,” promised the chief.  “Now move along.  Moonlight is wasting, and the time is short.”

            They reached the parking lot, only to be greeted by multiple engines revving to life and headlights flashing on.  Seconds later, a gaggle of police and civilian cars surrounded the three.

            “What’s going on here?” demanded the chief.

            “I thought we all had to endure some manner of ill-conceived escape attempt,” snapped Mandy as she revealed herself, “but not from _you_.”

            The honest police officers hopped out of their vehicles, weapons drawn.

            “Please, put your hands up, and don’t move,” they instructed.

            With no escape, the three obeyed.  The chief saw the fresh-faced rookies with wounded-doe looks in their eyes, the man they looked up to now exposed as a vicious crook.  And then there were the seasoned ones, wearing betrayed and stung facial expressions.  Then, out came the civilians, sporting looks of disbelief, disappointment and cold anger.

            “We’ve diligently paid our taxes to support you,” sniffled one Pianta, “and this is how you thank us?  Targeting the brother of the man who rescued our Sun Sprites?  How ungrateful is that?”

            “You don’t understand,” said the chief.  “I—I needed to pay off a debt.”

            “Save it for the court-martial,” growled Evan.  “I never thought I’d see the day when a man who swore to serve and protect became a bully.  L never did anything to you—yet you’re targeting him!”

            “Why not?” shrugged the chief.  “It’s fun!”

            Horrified gasps.

            “And you’ll never guess who gave you away,” Evan went on.

            “Who?”

            “Your assistant.”

            The curvaceous, nerdy assistant came forward, armed with a tape recorder.

            The chief’s jaw fell slack.  “How on Earth…?”

            “Remember the amazing, sultry night we had when Mr. and Mrs. Vidad first arrived for their honeymoon?” asked the assistant.  “The glasses upon glasses of red wine I offered you?  Well, here is the fruit of my labors.”  She held up the tape and perkily added, “A girl’s gotta have insurance, yes?”

            “I thought you loved me!” wailed the chief.

            “So did I,” the assistant replied.

            “Wow, buddy, you’re helping these bullies and vandals skate by while cavorting with your assistant,” Evan deadpanned.  “What other skeletons are in your closet?”

            “He—he’s one of Spike’s closest associates!” one of the terrified vandals blurted out.  “The fireworks, the defacing, the harassing—it was all your beloved police chief’s idea!  And he told all of us that if we saw anyone who sympathized with what’s-his-name, we were supposed to turn them over to him!”

            “So he could take them to Spike, where he’d have them—taken care of,” shuddered Evan.

            “How many innocent people have you delivered to that man?!” another Pianta wanted to know.

            “Dear God—would you have done that to your own citizens?!” shouted another.

            “And you,” spat Mandy, pointing a finger at the disgraced chief, “talking about doing these things to a recently married woman!  Yuck!”

            “You sick…!” hollered Evan, lunging for the chief.

            Two police Piantas restrained him.  “Buddy, he’s not worth it,” they told him.

            Wasting no time, the officers cuffed the trio, read them their rights, and took them into custody.

            Inside the police station, the two vandals were so desperate that they were willing to give everything away.  They were supposed to head to Fresno, where they’d meet up with a giant turtle who had some supplies and money for them, yet they were mum on the reptile’s name.  However, they gave up some important contacts, schemes, and most of all, admitted that they lied to Evan and Mandy and, in fact, knew Spike’s location, offering to serve as their guides in exchange for clemency.

            As for the police chief, once he found out that the two vandals had given him away, he had no choice but to spill everything, including the tourists he’d lured into Spike’s clutches for years.  He, too, offered to give up where those tourists were stashed, but the deceived Piantas said “no deal”.  They said the same thing to the vandals, and then all three of them found themselves in a holding cell, where they’d await their arraignment.

            “Giant turtle, huh?” murmured Evan as he dialed a number on his cell phone.  “I think we all know who he is…”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            On the streets of Fresno, California, a line of armored vans was on the move, escorted by a limousine with tinted windows.  Each van was filled to the brim with purloined Stars, Fire Flowers, Mushrooms, Power-Ups and Gold Coins.  Also in the mix were Clown Cars, Chain Chomps and Piranha Plants.  The loot was under heavy guard by Koopa Troopas, Magikoopas, Hammer Bros, Goombas and certain creatures of extraterrestrial origin in flying saucers.  An exchange would be made at the loading docks of a warehouse, overseen by some—friends—of the Fresno Police Department.  Funny how quickly cold, hard cash would turn an honest cop sour.  Anyway, these goods would soon be in the keep of bully networks from Isle Delfino to Bakersfield to Barstow and to Las Vegas, where Spike resided.

            Comfortably seated in the limo was King Koopa himself, accompanied by his trusty right-hand man, Kamek, and his old buddy, Tatanga.  Now, there was some back-and-forth going on in Koopa’s mind; had been since the events on Pi’ilo Island.  He and Luigi had a strange relationship.  One moment, they could be locked in an epic clash to the death, and the other, they could be kart racing or playing sports together like old chums.  But Koopa’s biggest dream was to expand his territory, and with its favorable geography, the Mushroom Kingdom seemed a viable area of conquest—not to mention its beautiful ruler.  Those pesky plumbers were all right when it came to racing and sports and parties, but he’d stop at nothing to get what he wanted.  A weird dynamic, indeed.

            And yes, Koopa had been two-faced.  He’d actively denounced Greenie’s bashing online whilst partaking in it under an assumed identity.  When Master Hand was investigating the drama entailed by prior tier lists, the overgrown turtle was beyond suspicion, considering how low he was ranked.  Sure, he felt a little bad when Luigi took off on his own, but by necking with these people, he was practically rolling in the dough.  Not only was he participating in the online taunts and property desecration (courtesy of his Fire Breath), but also he served as a chief financier and received tons of money in exchange for the goods he delivered to them.  Daisy would’ve been a nuisance to be around, anyway.

            But you didn’t hear that from him.

            “Are we there yet?” he asked.

            “We’ll reach our destination soon, Your Vileness,” Kamek responded.

            “Good,” grumbled Koopa.  “If things go as planned, we’ll have time to get some food.”

            “I haven’t heard from our friend the Pianta,” Tatanga put in.  “Hopefully, he’s not having second thoughts.”

            “Don’t you worry—our offer had dollar signs in his eyes,” Koopa reassured him, “and besides, he doesn’t care much for green ’st—Luigi—either.”

            “That plumber’s a whiny little brat,” sniffed Tatanga.  “This ought to remind him who’s boss around here.”

            “Now, don’t say that,” admonished Koopa.  “At the Ultra Smash tennis tournament last year, he rocked the house!”

            “Out of curiosity, who did you vote for in the Smash Ballot?” asked Tatanga.

            “Aside from Kamek?  I voted for you.”

            “Oh.  Well—uh—thanks,” stammered Tatanga.

            “I heard you made an arrangement with Daisy to be her Final Smash,” Koopa stated nonchalantly.

            “Yeah, but she kind of knew I was going to demand collateral, so she hung up on me,” shrugged Tatanga.

            “When’s the last time you tried to, you know?”

            “Pfft!  Forget it!  I heard that some idiots tried to put their hands on her and wound up in the hospital!  Coupled with her boyfriend’s “death stare”, I don’t stand a chance!  What about you and Peach?”

            “Let’s just say that she knows how to use a frying pan and a parasol to fend off reptiles like me,” quipped Koopa, “and even with Greenie gone, I’ve got Mario breathing down my neck.”

            “Pity,” said Tatanga.

            SCREEEEEEECH!

            Koopa, Kamek and Tatanga were nearly thrown forward, had it not been for their seatbelts.

            “What in the name of Mars was that?!” demanded Tatanga.

            “Sirs,” warned the driver.  “I think we’ve run into a bit of a problem.”

            The three passengers looked out in time to see two minibuses blocking their path.

            Then…

            “PK STARSTORM!!!!!”

            The motorcade found itself bombarded by a shower of bright, big comets.  Goombas, Koopa Troopas, and everyone else screamed and scrambled for cover.  The powerful comets were enough to cut through the thick bodies of the armored vans, sending its occupants running for dear life—only to find themselves staring down the might of Lady Palutena, Pit and their army.  They were soon joined by Peach, Daisy, Rosalina, Zelda, Link, Kirby, Meta Knight, Knuckle Joe, Tiff, Tuff, Roy, Lucina, Robin, Reflet, the Duck Hunt Duo, the Wii Fit Trainers, a whole bunch of Pokémon, Ness, Lucas, Jeff, Poo, Ana, Paula, Ninten, Samus, Captain Falcon, Corrin, Corrine, Bayo, Ryu, Cloud, Little Mac, Sheik, Mr. Game and Watch, Mega Man, Pac Man, Sonic, Yoshi, DK, Diddy, Fox, Falco, Krystal, Peppy, Slippy, Wolf, and countless others, including some Miis, Toads, Assist Trophies, and of course, Mario.

            All of them had some kind of weapon, from the Master Sword, Falchion, the Sword of Seals, twin blades and a bow and arrow to axes, shovels, pitchforks, fireworks, and heavier types of arms.  None of them looked happy.

            “Nobody move!  Hands where we can see them!” they demanded.

            “What do you guys want?” asked Tatanga.

            He got an answer in the form of:

            “PK Fire!”

            “PK Thunder!”

            “PK Freeze!”

            “PK Love!”

            “Arcfire!”

            “Thoron!”

            “Autoreticle!”

            “Hadoken!”

            “PIIIIIIIIIIKAAAAAAAACHUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!”

            And with that, everyone else let loose, sending magic, a Luma, lasers, spores and more at their enemies.  Kamek and the Magikoopas fired their own magic at them, but Palutena, Zelda and Rosalina reflected their projectiles.  The mob charged the vans, demanding the loot to be relinquished.  The Star Fox crew used their Arwings and Landmasters to mow down the opposition, and the Wii Fit Trainers made some enemies feel the burn, forcing them to do push-ups after handing them the loot.

            By the time it was over, a fair number of Goombas, Koopa Troopas, Hammer Bros, Magikoopas and Tatanga’s minions had been squashed, and the remainder of them was placed under arrest.  Samus, Falcon and Team Star Fox wasted no time securing the vans and the goods they held inside, while the rest cornered Tatanga, Kamek and Koopa.

            “You idiots!” roared Koopa.  “Do you know who I am?  DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM??!!”

            Daisy reached out and ripped off Koopa’s identification badge, given to him by an associate of Spike’s.  “We do now, you no-good reptile!” she spat.

            “I should’ve known you were up to something rotten!” Peach added.

            “Just wait till _he_ hears about this,” growled Mario.  To the others, he said, “Okeydokey, let’s finish up here.”

            “Try this one on for size,” said Palutena as she raised her staff.  “Black hole!  Mega laser!”

            Koopa managed to escape Palutena’s Final Smash.  Tatanga, however, wasn’t so lucky.  The giant turtle was pursued by the alien’s screams as he fled into an alley.  Eventually, he took refuge at a small café, wondering where it all went wrong and what would happen to him from here.

            “Those pesky plumbers know everything now!” he grumbled, cursing to himself.  “You’re done for, Koopa—you are definitely done for!”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            “Why did you do it?”

            Evelyn stirred in the passenger seat of Luigi’s car.  “Hmm?”

            “Why did you risk your life for me?”

            “I couldn’t just stand and watch them beat you like an animal,” Evelyn said quietly.  “Besides, I’m a Luigi fan.  It’s what we do.”

            “What about your job, though?”

            “Don’t worry.  I have a good friend looking after TA while I’m gone,” Evelyn said, tossing her blonde locks from her face.

            “I think we’re going to know each other better,” said Luigi, “because I could use your help.  And I thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for putting yourself in harm’s way for me.”

            “You’re welcome,” smiled Evelyn.

            They were literally in the fast lane, on Highway 99, still buzzing from the incident at TA.  Luigi had connected his phone to his car’s Bluetooth device, allowing it to play music once they were beyond the range of his favorite radio station.  Cool wind flapped their hair as they breezed past the many grape farms, the smells of the fermenting fruit serving as a perfume.  Now and then, they made trucks they passed honk and sipped on the smoothies they’d snagged before leaving TA.

            “When I was young and living in Lodi, I was a master at Mario games,” said Evelyn.  “During two-player situations, I was always you.  When I joined the varsity team in high school, a little club began to form.  We were among the first fans eagerly awaiting your appearance.  After I graduated from college, I moved out here in search of adventure.  I guess I finally found it.”

            “If it weren’t for the likes of you, I’d be in a very tortured place,” Luigi said softly.  “I was able to deal with what these freaks are doing to me.  My year was the fruit of the trials I’d endured, and by the time it was over, I realized that I could control what was going on in my life.  So, I decided to do something about it.”

            “When I walked in that bathroom and saw what I saw, I chose to do something about it, too,” said Evelyn.  “I don’t know what else this Spike dude has up his sleeve, but I know that if we work together, we can do something about him and his gang.”

            “I know so, too,” agreed Luigi.  “Have you heard anything from Val?”

            Evelyn started.

            “I know he got in touch with you,” Luigi went on.  “There’s a reason for everything, you know.  It wasn’t just coincidence that you were manning the cash register, or that you handed me that parcel, or that we struck up a conversation.  It wasn’t just coincidence that you saved my life.  Maybe it was a sign from my Star Sprites, watching over me.”

            “How do you know that I’m connected with Val?” asked Evelyn.

            “I’ve gotten to the point where I just know,” said Luigi.  “Val was so awesome to me when I was in L.A. dealing with Tristan.  He was genuinely concerned for my safety, and it was clear that he didn’t want to say goodbye.  I had to remind him that he had a duty to the citizens of his city.  He’s a P.I., so he knows how to keep tabs on someone.  Maybe he’s telling me through you that he’s still looking out for me.”

            “He is,” said Evelyn, “and I did hear from him.  I called him after our scrap with the five guys and let him know that we were both okay.  He’s doing well, too, diligently watching out for perps and other bullies who escaped you.  His summer leave is coming soon, and he wants to use it to catch up with you.”

            “I know he does,” smiled Luigi.  “How long have you two been pen pals?”

            “Since forever,” answered Evelyn.  “We meet up sometimes, though.”

            “See?  I knew there was a reason why I bumped into you,” said Luigi.  “Fresno is about 45 minutes away.  Enough time for you to get some rest.”

            “L, you read my mind,” whispered Evelyn as she sank back into the seat and closed her eyes.

            As a new song came over his sound system, Luigi slightly turned up the music and began to softly sing along.

 **The things that I see**  
As I walk along the streets  
That's heaven to me  
  
A little flower that blooms in May  
A lovely sunset at the end of a day  
Someone helping a stranger along the way  
(That's heaven to me)  
That's heaven to me  
  
The feeling I have when I hear a touching prayer  
It makes me know, the Lord is somewhere  
Even the birds flying around in the air  
(That's heaven to me)  
That's heaven to me, no  
  
It doesn't have to be a miracle  
In order for me to see, I know  
The goodness of my, my Savior  
Is everywhere to me, woah, woah, woah  
  
Even the children playing in the street  
Sing a friendly hello to everyone that they meet  
Even the leaves blowing out, blowing out  
Blowing out, blowing out on the tree  
(That's heaven to me)  
That's heaven to me, woah, woah  
  
Woah woah, woah woah, woah Lord

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Koopa was still at the café, nursing his injuries, pondering his next move, when his cell phone chirped.

            “Oh, thank God!” he bellowed when he answered it.  “You’ll never guess what happened!”

            “I don’t know, Koopa—what happened?” asked a voice which froze the marrow in his bones.

            “Who is this—and how did you get this phone?” he barked.

            “I just had a nice conversation with some of your new friends.  It was really a pleasure to meet them, by the way.  I can understand why you want to hang with them.”

            “You tipped those people off, didn’t you?” growled Koopa.

            “You know, I had suspicions in the back of my mind about you.  Our relationship tends to seesaw back and forth.  I just didn’t want to believe it, since you’ve started respecting me more in our battles.  Mario told me that you felt remorseful when I left.  Are you really sorry, or is that just your conscience nagging at you?”

            “Why are we playing this game?” Koopa demanded.

            “I also knew that you getting involved in Smash was a bad idea.  From Melee onward, you caused nothing but trouble.  Turning Giga, the Subspace, the Dark Cannons, and now _this_.  And by the way, you’re not going to meet the corrupt Pianta chief today—or ever.  Some friends of mine caught on to his scheme, and they’re going to see that he’s put away for the rest of his life.  It’s over, Koopa.  You’re done.”

            “Okay, fine.  I participated in the Daisy bashing because I thought she’d be annoying.  But it was nothing against you, I swear.”

            “Anything against _mia Princesa_ is against me.  You of all people should know that.”

            “What did you think I planned to do?  Kidnap her like I do to Peach?”

            “Actually, yes.  And I have proof.”

            “Are you blackmailing me, Greenie?”

            “No.  There’s nothing of yours that I want.  You’re not even worth the trouble.”

            “Then what _do_ you want??”

            “Hang tight, Koopa.  I’ll see you soon.  And I mean that in every sense of the word.”

            _Click_.

            Dial tone.

            And the tick of the clock on the wall.          


	32. Interlude: 1989

**_Welcome to New York_ **

**_Welcome to New York_ **

**_It’s a new soundtrack_ **

**_I could dance to this beat, beat_ **

**_Forevermore…_ **

**Luigi’s POV**

**Taylor Swift started off as a country singer and has recently made the transition to the pop genre.  It’s that transitional album, _1989_ , which is now nestled in my car’s CD drive, serving as the soundtrack to a drive down California Highway 99.  My new copilot, Evelyn, and I join Tay on the vocals in perfect harmony, lyrics flowing from our mouths like water from a spring, our voices passionate and strong.  And it’s not just the lyrics that count.  There are the percussive, steady drumbeats snugly fitting in with our 65 to 70 mile an hour trek across rolling vineyards and farms, carrying scents of fermenting grapes, processing cheese, fresh onions and sometimes livestock manure.  Trucks creep by us, sometimes with cows or chickens staring curiously at us, sometimes carrying freshly obtained milk to be pasteurized, or wheat or corn or other cash crops.  I breathe in the smell of the country, so diverse and realistic and earthy, and I gaze upon the light blue sky, decorated with fat clouds.  It’s beautiful here, with such open space, and I reflect on how unified with nature I’m becoming as Evelyn and I journey on.**

**_’Cause we’re young and we’re reckless,_ **

**_We’ll take this way too far._ **

**_It’ll leave you breathless or with a nasty scar._ **

**_Got a long list of ex-lovers;_ **

**_They’ll tell you I’m insane._ **

**_But I’ve got a blank space, baby…_ **

**_And I’ll write your name._ **

**We pass by small towns, often, hitting convenience stores to grab snacks and drinks.  Evelyn munches on cheddar popcorn, telling me about her life, about her secrets.  She crunches thoughtfully as she ponders how her life choices had led her to the passenger seat of my car, the top down, smelling the wine country and farm country as Taylor Swift sings to her on my stereo.  I wonder if she’s ever fallen in love, ever held a man, ever had her heart broken.  Does she have a special someone she wants to be with—someone she fantasizes about in solitude, away from prying eyes and gossiping BFFs?  She’s shown me that she’s more than just a girl at a cash register, and I find myself wanting to extend an invitation for her to let me in, just as I’ve let her in.  The smell of cheddar powder teases my nostrils and I dig one hand into the bag she tipped for me, pulling out the cheddar-dusted popped kernels and wrapping my lips around them.  The tangy, savory taste explodes inside my mouth and dances all over my taste buds; a few kernels bounce around on my lap, falling into Evelyn’s waiting hands.  I lick traces of cheese powder from my fingers before returning the hand to the wheel, and yet the deliciousness lingers all around my lips.  My tongue explores it, immerses itself in it, and it isn’t long before my hand digs in for another scavenger hunt.  But the starchiness causes a parched feeling to creep up my throat, so I greedily suck from the straw in my king-sized drink.  My gullet takes to it as if it survived a drought—it’s one of my favorite drinks, after all—and then I turn to smile briefly at Evelyn, at the orange ringing her lips and at her kind eyes.  Both hands are back on the wheel and my eyes are on the road, but Evelyn and I continue to talk and swap stories and experiences.  She hopes to meet Daisy sometime, and I hope to introduce her.**

**_You got that James Dean daydream look in your eye,_ **

**_And I got that red lip classic thing that you like,_ **

**_And when we go crashing down we come back every time_ **

**_‘Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style…_ **

**Whenever we’re sweaty and tired and dusty, there are lots of stations and mini-marts for us to stop at.  The A.C. blasts its cool breath gracefully onto our faces, and we buy the biggest drinks they offer, gulping and gulping as if we’re from a desert.  In the center of the table, a group of Super Mushrooms sits on a napkin; we occasionally pick one out and munch away.  We feel our energy coming back, and we soon leave one of those indoor recharging stations and hop back into the car before there’s only the endless highway and the essence-tinged wind and Tay and _1989_.  We feel tense from time to time, but we just sing it out and laugh and love and look forward.  What matters now is just the thrill of the journey and the adventure, never knowing where we’re going to run into next and enjoying the mystery.**

**_Remember when you hit the brakes too soon?_ **

**_20 stitches in a hospital room?_ **

**_When you started crying, baby I did, too_ **

**_But when the sun came up, I was looking at you._ **

**_Remember when we couldn’t take the heat?_ **

**_I walked out; I said I’m setting you free_ **

**_But the monsters turned out to be just trees_ **

**_When the sum came up, you were looking at me._ **

**Evelyn’s a member of Planet Fitness, and I have so many gym memberships that I can hardly remember them all.  We start looking for gyms along the way so we can burn off whatever doubt is trying to ambush us.  Evelyn is wondering if Val is okay and if I’m okay—if there are people waiting to hurt me again.  And I’m wondering about the state of affairs in Smash, if everyone is still doing okay, if maybe I should call them again just to set their minds at ease.  We pull over, check in, put in our earbuds and just let go.  We work, we sweat and all of it dissipates into thin air.  There’s nothing to worry about; as long as we roll with the punches, we’ll survive.  Tay sounds so optimistic on my stereo and we can’t help but to simply give into her.  No wonder this album won awards—it can approach us on all levels.**

**_But I keep cruising_ **

**_Can’t stop, won’t stop moving_ **

**_It’s like I got this music in my mind_ **

**_Saying it’s gonna be all right!_ **

**Tay has made herself at home in the stereo of my lovely car, and she’s not leaving anytime soon.  She and I are going to be good friends, and she’s already pretty chummy with Evelyn.  In one song, she says she can read us like a magazine.  And she does, injecting her verve and optimism and spirit into us, warbling to us about first love, about surviving trials, about coping with lost love and about just shaking off whatever people throw at you.  This trip is a long one, especially by car, and Tay is there the whole way.  She’s there when we have to pull over to the side of the road and call Triple A to tow us to the nearest car repair shop to fix my vehicle up.  She’s there when high winds blow dust around and force us to slow our speed.  She’s there when a road accident causes traffic, and the smog fumes drive us crazy.  She’s there when trucks bounce rocks and pebbles at the windows and the windshield, resulting in minor chips and cracks.  And she’s there, in a lonely parking lot at a convenience store, when Evelyn and I fight off what appears to be a random carjacker creep who wants a free car, free snacks and perhaps something more.  Tay is always there; Tay always waits for us when we have to fill up the tank or empty our bladders.**

**_Hey, all you had to do was stay_ **

**_Had me in the palm of your hand_ **

**_Then why’d you have to go and lock me out when I let you in?_ **

**_Hey, now you say you want it back_ **

**_Now that it’s just too late._ **

**_Well, it could’ve been easy_ **

**_All you had to do was stay._ **

**A few calls come in along the way.  The first few are from Mario and Peach.  Some are from Daisy.  Others are from Bayo, testing the waters with me although we’re cordial with each other.  I get a handful from Meta Knight, and a shower of them from Kirby and Pikachu.  I initiate a few calls to Master Hand, just to reassure him that things are okay between us, and to Crazy and to MC just so they can hear my voice.  I call many who I’ve been tight with over the years, like Ness, Samus, DK, Jiggs and even Douglas.  And there are incoming texts from Zelda, Link, Lucina, Reflet, Cloud and Ryu.  A few of my fans call Evelyn, who tasks herself with serving as their updater; she tells them that the road is rough, but we’re surviving, and that’s all that counts.**

**_It’s 2 a.m. in your car_ **

**_Windows down, you pass my street._ **

**_The memories start; you say it’s in the past._ **

**_You drive straight ahead; you’re thinking that I hate you now_ **

**_‘Cause you still don’t know what I never said…_ **

**Evelyn has hours upon hours of Smash matches she recorded on her phone.  Sometimes, she watches them while I watch the road.  She has her earbuds in so as not to distract me, but I can hear her chuckle at intervals.  How many matches has she recorded?  Do all of them involve me, or a friend of mine, or Mario?  Are they in different time periods?  I recall the days when Miiverse and the Smash blog were safe places, where I could watch recaps of all of my matches and blush as I watch myself hold my own against tougher opponents.  Evelyn gasping breathily is evidence enough; she’s watching some of my clips.  I _do_ put on quite a show on the battlefield, and I will when I return.  She takes time to pepper me with questions about the matches she’s seen.  I just smile and answer humbly.**

**_Band-Aids don’t fix bullet holes._ **

**_You say sorry just for show._ **

**_If you live like that, you live with ghosts…_ **

**_If you love like that, blood runs cold…_ **

**When she was younger, Evelyn used to drive a pickup truck for some company she doesn’t remember.  What she remembers is the rush of being behind the wheel.  So, when I need some time in the passenger seat, she eagerly hops into the driver’s seat and maneuvers my car as if she’s another me.  She even rocks the look of a simple, adventurous woman, with the plaid, button-down shirt, light blue jeans, comfortable sneakers, a few bangles and a green beret snugly on her head.  This beret has an “L” on it, like the one on Val, and I know for a fact that I’m in good hands.  I relax in my seat, eyes closed, Tay continuing to sing to us and Evelyn humming along.  I softly mumble a few lyrics as sleep takes over me—the trip has taken a rough turn with the unexpected surprised, and the adrenaline stemming from the encounter in the men’s room has run its course—for now.  I sense Evelyn encouraging me to rest, just like I encouraged her earlier—sleep is a soul-nourishing tonic, and I’ve always been very susceptible to it—why else was I designated the “dreamboat” of Pi’ilo Island?  So I slump backward a little in my seat and allow Tay’s voice to fade out until I’m drifting in a sea of fabulously dreamy dreams.**

**_Say you’ll remember me,_ **

**_Standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset, babe_ **

**_Red lips and rosy cheeks_ **

**_Say you’ll see me again, even if it’s just in your_ **

**_Wildest dreams…wildest dreams…_ **

**How long do I sleep?  I’m slightly aware of the beat of tires on road, of soft pillows of solace as my body does maintenance on itself.  I dream of a world I hope to create, a world without harassment or hate or being taken advantage of or taken for granted.  I dream as deeply as I believe and hope, and in my dreams, I can trust and love and give selflessly without having it thrown in my face.  My dreamy dreams ease away the damage of what has happened to me, and by the time I swim back to the world of my car whooshing down 99 and Tay singing in our ears, I’m cleansed and ready for more.**

**_Then you say…I want you for worse or for better._ **

**_I would wait forever and ever._ **

**_Broke your heart, I’ll put it back together._ **

**_I would wait forever and ever._ **

**_And that’s how it works;_ **

**_That’s how you get the girl._ **

**Val calls us on a vacant stretch of 99, putting Paul on the phone.  Paul is doing great, out of the hospital, playing all of my games and mastering them, back to cherishing my presence in Nintendo despite what happened to him.  He tells me that as soon as he got word on what I was doing, he formed an after-school treehouse club with his friends to discuss how they can pitch in.  While he has no real plan, he knows that he doesn’t want to live in fear anymore.  He’s also thinking about filling out the application to join Smash.  He says that he’d probably be a shell of a boy if not for me.  I’m glad he’s moving on from this traumatic experience.  When Val takes back the phone, he tells me that my fans in L.A. are still safe, that his leave is coming up, and he’s going to use that time to check up on me, whether I want it or not.  I wouldn’t expect anything less.  But has he received threats?  Has word gotten out that he associates with me now?  What will Spike do to him?  He’s keeping his city safe, and I’m going to keep _him_ safe.**

**_This love is good_ **

**_This love is bad_ **

**_This love is alive; back from the dead_ **

**_These hands had to let it go free and_ **

**_This love came back to me._ **

**We’re reaching the end of Tay’s album now.  The end of _1989_ , when Evelyn was eight and I’d been in the minds of gamers for six out of those eight years, ten years before Master Hand would call us together for the very first Smash tournament.  Those were the simpler times, when all I had to worry about was the next plumbing job or the next adventure to rescue a princess, or how to be less clumsy.  But on the other hand, I’m glad those times have changed, for I have made friends and put the worst of the bad times behind me—I have discovered an inner strength like a dormant volcano, and nowadays, ghosts don’t look so scary to me.  Tay has put together an album about simple aspects of life, as simple as the year she used for this album’s title, and it’s helped us through the brunt of our travels by envisioning a simpler world and simpler ways to handle life’s problems.  It’s almost as if she’s directly singing to us.  And perhaps she has.**

**_Baby, I know places we won’t be found_ **

**_And they’ll be chasing their tails trying to track us down._ **

**_Chasing us around_ **

**_And I know places we can hide_ **

**_I know places_ ** **…**

**Soon, I’m back in the driver’s seat, fresh from another pit stop, where a bag of cheddar popcorn gravitates from Evelyn to me and back again.  Cheddar-filled notes float away as we sing the final song on Tay’s album, the song which describes what we both hope to be at the end of this mission, where we must say the inevitable _arrivederci_.  But until then, there’s the kiss of the wind, the wisp of grapes, the crispness of onions and the mixed aromas of rural California—the bustle of service stations and mini-marts, the rustling of hands in bags and the _crunch_ of popcorn in our mouths.  It’s the freedom of the road and the sky, and Evelyn and I are two paper airplanes, flying—flying—flying—flying.**

**_Rain came pouring down when I was drowning_ **

**_That’s when I could finally breathe by morning._ **

**_Gone was any trace of you—_ **

**_I think I’m finally clean._ **


	33. Tempus Vernum

**The little girl, she said to me,**

**“What are these things that I can’t see**

**Each night when I come home from school**

**When Mother calls me in for tea?**

**Oh, every night, her baby dies**

**And every night, her mother cries**

**What makes these men do what they do**

**To make that person black and blue?”**

**\--Chris Rea**

            The bus seemed to hesitate before going onto the freeway ramp.  It took the steep curve at around 35mph before accelerating to the required 65mph for highways.  The driver sat back in his seat, casually smacking on gum as he steered the long vehicle with one hand and fiddled with the radio using the other.

            It was a great big All West tourist bus with all of the perks.  Air conditioning, comfy, reclining seats, pillows upon request, a restroom in the back and luggage racks.  As soon as the bus was underway, the passengers either put in their earbuds or dropped off, some of them lulled by the NPR talk show the driver decided to blast.  And if the droning newsperson didn’t lull anybody, then the landscape did.

            The only person wide awake was Koopa.  With the Pianta chief and two of his accomplices in custody, he had nobody to turn to.  That surprise ambush back in Fresno had completely exposed his role in bringing all of this upon Luigi, Daisy and their fans.  As long as he was in the Golden State, he wasn’t safe.  His only hope was to reach Avis Airport in Bakersfield, where his private jet would whisk him to safety in Las Vegas.

            His conversation with Luigi played in his head.  Where was he?  Was he following him?  Did he know of his escape plans?  He had seemed calm—too calm.  Koopa half-expected him to be hysterical over what he’d done.  Yelling at him, demanding to know why he did those things—not his conversational tone of voice as he pointed out the trouble he caused in Smash.  And what proof was he talking about?  Had he known all along that he was plotting to land Daisy in his clutches, along with Peach?  Who had tattled on him?  Who had snooped around on his Miiverse profile—along with Mario?  Who had thrown him to the dogs?

            Greenie could be everywhere, watching his every move.  Maybe he was trailing the bus!  Koopa threw a glance at the rear windows—no sign of Luigi’s car.  What type of car was he driving, anyway?  What color was it?  There was no way to watch out for that man.  And so the King of Koopas sat, praying for the bus to move faster, counting the seconds till he was aboard the jet which was more accommodating to his bulk.

            “Excuse me, sir?”

            Koopa turned around to find a young mother addressing him.

            “Yes?”

            “Do you have any wipes?  My son’s face is a sticky mess.”

            “Nope.  Sorry.”

            The mother turned away from him and went back to fussing over her two-year-old son, whose face was smeared with chocolate and peanut butter.  _Her life is a snapshot of the Hamptons compared to mine_ , Koopa thought to himself as he stared absentmindedly out of the window.  There were some farmers tending to their crops, the livestock staring dumbly after the bus, tails swishing.  Huffing, the giant turtle adjusted himself in his seat and tried to grab some rest.

            It wasn’t much.

            Next thing he knew, the bus was pulling into McFarland for a bathroom and leg-stretching break.  Of course, both bathrooms had a long line, but Koopa took care of that with his fiery breath.  Unfortunately, that resulted in him being thrown out of the store.  So, he ran over to a fast-food place to take care of his business.  He wasn’t hungry, so he headed back to the bus and returned to his seat.

            “How much longer till we get to Bakersfield?” asked Koopa.

            The driver checked his watch.  “Less than an hour,” he replied.

            In less than an hour, Luigi would find him.

            As the bus slowly began filling back up, Koopa’s cell phone rang.

            “Please, tell me it’s someone who can help me!” he answered.

            “I don’t know about that,” said Luigi.  “Hopping on a bus and running off to Bakersfield isn’t a good way to solve your problem.”

            Koopa spluttered.  “I—but—how…?”

            “We both know that you’re on your way to the airport, where a special jet is waiting for you.  It amuses me that the fearsome Koopa King is looking for someone to hide behind.  If I got past Kyle and Tristan and the others, then I’ll definitely get past Spike.”

            “I don’t think so.  He has powerful friends,” growled Koopa.

            “We’re not exactly enemies, you know.  We’re sort of—in between.  That being said, there’s nothing stopping you from telling me anything that I need to know.  You know what they say—the truth will set you free.”

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

            “You’re not the first one who put on a front to mask the person you really are, did you know?  The only difference is that you didn’t come as a shock, like the others.  But I know everything.  The alias you assumed to pick on me and Daisy.  The financial help and supplies you’ve contributed to these people.  Your detailed plans to have two princesses for yourself.  There’s no use trying to deny it.  Maybe if you come clean, I’ll leave you alone.”

            “I told you—I wasn’t aiming for you.  I was aiming for Daisy!” Koopa hissed.

            “No doubt, our paths will cross in Bakersfield,” said Luigi.  “Perhaps we’ll have a proper discussion there.”

            “What do you think you’re doing?”

            “I look forward to seeing you,” smiled Luigi.  “Have a safe trip, yes?”

            And then he hung up.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            In Bakersfield, Luigi had already arrived with Evelyn in tow, with the trip a thousand times more enjoyable.  They’d run through every last playlist on Luigi’s iPhone, every last playlist on Evelyn’s iPhone and a few of Luigi’s CDs.  Luigi had gained wind of a few of his companion’s high school adventures and misadventures, and Evelyn had heard some entertaining bits from Luigi’s boyhood and the early days of the Mario Bros’ plumbing business.  Their throats were a little sore from joining in the vocalists who had paid a visit to the car stereo.  They were wrung out and a little stinky.  Before doing anything, a stop at the Flying J on the outskirts of the city was in order.  Like TA, this service stop had showers and snacks, but it was the former on the travelers’ minds.  They found shower rooms right next to each other, where they wasted no time stripping, setting the water temperature to the coldest setting and jumping right in.  Evelyn had a tropical fruit-scented bar of soap to lather her body, while Luigi used his cucumber melon-scented bar to wash the odors away.  Though they had to limit their time to five minutes, they made the most of them, gently yet vigorously cleansing themselves using practiced, circular motions of their soft sponges and then working fingers into dirty scalps, made nice and sudsy by travel-sized shampoo.  Evelyn finished first, her hair a bit damp, but at least feeling clean and wearing a fresh pair of clothes.  She smiled at Luigi as he emerged from his shower room.

            “How are you feeling?” she asked.

            “Like a plant after a good rain,” replied Luigi.

            Shortly thereafter, the duo was at a Carl’s, Jr. in the downtown area.  They sat at a booth in the center of the restaurant, enjoying a simple meal of burgers, fries and shakes.

            “So, any news on Koopa’s whereabouts?” asked Evelyn.

            “Last I heard, he was on a bus headed here,” said Luigi.  “Avis Airport is our best bet.  We can intercept him there.”

            “Any idea when the bus arrives?” asked Evelyn.

            “I used my phone to look up the schedules,” Luigi told her, showing her his iPhone.  “I also have a friend tracking the jet arriving to pick him up.  A woman traveling with her young son noticed him at the Fresno bus depot and has kept close tabs on him during the trip, after a quick word to me, of course.”

            “You know her?”

            “She frequently supports me during conquest events,” explained Luigi.  “It’s quite a coincidence that she and Koopa are on the same bus.”

            “Well, I heard that Paul is working with Val now,” said Evelyn.

            “Really?” breathed Luigi.

            “Paul’s in a Boy Scout camp, did you know?  He’s using his connections to snoop on potential bullies.”

            “Does he know the danger he’s facing?”

            “Apparently so.  He talked to Val about it, and he agreed to deputize him.”

            “As long as Val has his eye on Paul at all times, that’s fine with me,” Luigi finally said.

            His phone buzzed.  It was the woman, telling him that they were approaching Avis Airport.

            He turned to Evelyn, face serious.  “Lunch break is over.”

            “Large chocolate shakes for the road?” offered Evelyn.

            “You’re on.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            “Have a good rest of your trip.”

            “Thanks.”

            Koopa shrugged to himself as the young mom smiled politely, gathered her things and stepped into the aisle to disembark, her son in her arms.  The kid smiled and waved at him, peering at him over his mother’s shoulder.  After leaving McFarland, Koopa and the woman had struck up light conversation as her son napped in her lap.  As it turned out, she liked anime, Super Mario (what a surprise) and Fire Emblem.  When her son woke up, she read him a story about Thomas the Train Engine.  He really loved trains, and he wanted to be a train conductor when he grew up.  Eventually, she talked away his anxieties, and he arrived in Bakersfield with a confident gait.

            Grabbing a suitcase, Koopa rushed to the car which would drive shuttle him to the airport.  Jumping into the backseat, he gave the order, “Step on it.”

            “Keep your head down,” advised the driver.

            The shuttle sped as fast as it could towards Avis.

            The vehicle hadn’t completely stopped when Koopa threw open the door and jumped out.  He scurried into the private jet before his pilot had time to greet him.

            “How soon can we get there?” asked Koopa.

            “Two hours.”

            “Ninety minutes, and I’ll pay you double.”

            The pilot smiled and disappeared into the cockpit.

            Koopa settled into his seat, sighed in satisfaction, and closed his eyes.  But then…

            His eyes shot open at the sounds of struggle coming from the cockpit.  The pilot screamed.  Two other voices, a man and a woman.  Koopa recognized the man immediately—Luigi!  But who was the woman?  Was it the mother chatting him up earlier?

            His train of thought stopped cold when the pilot’s screams died away.

            “Attention, passengers,” Luigi spoke over the intercom.  “I’m afraid this flight’s been delayed for some time.”

            “Greenie!  What are you doing here?” roared Koopa.

            “I told you we’d meet up in Bakersfield,” said Luigi.  “Oh, have you met my friend, Evelyn?”

            “Hi, Koopa!” Evelyn piped up.

            “What do you troublemakers want from me?”

            Two folders slid towards the turtle from under the cockpit door.  Koopa picked them up and browsed through them.

            “I’m sure you recognize your own writing,” Luigi went on.  “Those folders contain the proof I was talking about earlier.  Taking pictures of Daisy and her subjects, Koopa Troopas casing her castle, chat transcripts online, Miiverse posts—wow, you’ve just about covered everything!  Are you still denying it now, when the proof is right in front of your face?”

            Koopa sweatdropped.  “I…”

            “I was a fool to think you’ve changed, and I got burned by it,” Luigi went on.  “So did you mean it, Koopa?  All of those times when you were supposedly sticking up for me?  The apologetic voicemails when I was on the road?  How long have you been helping the enemy?”

            “You’d better answer his question, you overgrown turtle,” Evelyn chimed in, “because he doesn’t sound happy.”

            “I feel like my heart’s been ripped out of my chest—but what did I expect?  A lot of people ripped my heart out of my chest many times over!  But after everything we’ve been through together—the parties and sports and races—you just had to pull a stunt like that!  What do you have against Daisy?”

            “Look, I’m a villain, all right?” huffed Koopa, “and I just don’t like her.  She’s annoying and stuck-up and…”

            “Save the tirade; I think he’s heard enough,” growled Evelyn.

            “You know what, I’m not listening to this!  I’m gone!” spat Koopa, getting up and lunging for the door.

            At that moment, it slammed shut.  Koopa rammed his shoulder against it, hoping to force it back open, and felt himself being yanked back by his tail.

            Luigi slammed his and Mario’s longtime foe up and down and left and right as Evelyn watched with a stony expression.  Finally, Luigi heaved Koopa against the back of the plane and cannoned his fists into his flank until his face and underbelly were bloody all over.

            “Okay, lay off,” said Evelyn.  “He’s not worth it.”

            “Don’t worry,” said Luigi.  “He’ll come back.  How else does he snatch Peach over and over?”

            “I don’t know, but I _do_ want to know where Spike is in Vegas,” said Evelyn, looking pointedly at Koopa.

            “Find him yourselves, you meddling idiots!” snapped Koopa.

            “Oh, we will,” promised Evelyn.  “Count on it.”

            Seconds after Luigi and Evelyn turned their backs, Koopa attacked!  The private jet was now a battlefield.  Koopa slashed with his claws and tail at the pair, but Luigi had fists, fire and thunder and Evelyn had her golf club.  Windows smashed, walls cracked and seats ripped as this ferocious battle escalated.  It was similar to the many RPG battles Luigi had participated in, except that he had a different partner, and that Koopa had a lot to lose.  And so he tore that jet apart, trying to tear these two interlopers apart, trying to escape.

            It culminated in Evelyn lying across a row of seats, jabbing at Koopa’s eyes, her blood dripping onto the fabric, staining her clothes and hair.  Luigi used his hammer to smash a fire extinguisher case before grabbing the fire extinguisher and staggering over to help his friend.  As he reached them, Evelyn launched her feet toward Koopa’s chest, throwing him off of her.  Luigi clubbed Koopa with the fire extinguisher, grabbed him by the tail and swung him over and over, the go-to method of defeating this beast.  Finally, he let go, ejecting Koopa from the plane.

            The reptilian kidnapper lay on the tarmac, groaning.  Evelyn stepped over and stomped her stiletto heel into his groin several times.  Then, she seized him by the tail and started to lift him up.

            “It’s not as simple as it looks!” Luigi called to her.

            He gaped as Evelyn started to spin Koopa around, slowly at first, and then steadily gaining speed.  Then, he ran up and joined her in swinging the giant reptile silly.  They swung Koopa until the two of them got dizzy, and together, they released their hold, sending him flying far into the distance.

            “I’ll let him live,” muttered Luigi, “but if he gets near Daisy, then he’s really had it!”

            He pulled a few 1UP Mushrooms out of his pocket and walked over to Evelyn, who was recovering from the battle.

            “Here.  These will make you feel better.”

           


	34. Stand in the Rain

**So stand in the rain;**

**Stand your ground—**

**Stand up when it’s all crashing down!**

**You stand through the pain;**

**You won’t drown—**

**And one day, what’s lost can be found;**

**You stand in the rain!**

**\--Superchick**

            “Okay, thanks,” said Luigi before ending the call on his Bluetooth device.  He smiled over at Evelyn.

            “That was Christine, the mother on the bus.  She’s headed to Vegas for a Smash convention, and she promised to keep an eye out for Spike.  What a coincidence.”

            “Tell me about it,” sighed Evelyn.  “It seems this adventure is full of coincidences.”

            “Like Val and I meeting at that gym?  You and I meeting at TA?”

            “Yeah.”

            “And Paul serving as Val’s little deputy?”

            “Mmm-hmm.  What about a gang of Smashers jumping Koopa earlier?”

            “I know.  Daisy told me.  A little middle finger from two princesses to their kidnappers.”

            “Do you know what’s going to happen with the property?”

            “They’re going to use it for evidence against Koopa.  If the police haven’t found him, then he’s still trying to get to Vegas.  We have to get there first.”

            “Do you think we’ll meet up with some of your pals there?” asked Evelyn.

            “It’s highly likely.  Do you fancy another Mushroom?”

            “Don’t mind if I do.”  Evelyn popped the proffered shroom into her mouth.

            “Are you okay?” questioned Luigi.

            “Yeah.  Are _you_ okay?”

            Luigi nodded.  “He put up quite a fight, and he’ll put up a bigger one in Vegas.”

            “We’ll have to roll up the windows soon,” said Evelyn.  “The air’s getting hotter.  It seems we’re approaching the desert.”

            “Good thing we’re prepared for it,” said Luigi.

            They had left California Highway 99 and were now on California Highway 58.  Nothing much to see there.  Just a few clusters of fast-food places and gas stations, followed by farmland and oil fields.  As Evelyn had pointed out, the wind had taken on a warmer quality, and it wasn’t long before they were switching on the air conditioner and taking occasional sips of drinks to counteract parching lips.  The car began its winding journey uphill, pausing near Arvin to assist a family of three whose car had broken down.  They passed hills covered with windmills, some of them turning quickly, some of then turning slowly and some of them not turning at all.  When they pulled into Tehachapi, a man flagged them down, telling them that a few parcels were waiting for them at the bus depot.  The senders were Mario, Daisy, Dr. Mario and the final bosses, consisting of food, water, first aid, body wash, shampoo, radios, medicine and more.  After thanking the man, the duo continued on their way, discussing their plans, trading jokes and continuing to sing along to the music they blasted.  When they saw cacti, sagebrush and tumbleweed, they knew that they were officially in the desert.

            After Tehachapi came a long, boring stretch of desert on a relatively congestion-free highway.  Luigi simply switched into the fast lane and opened her up, translating the aftershocks from his battle with Koopa into energy for driving.  His hair was becoming frizzed from the humidity, as was Evelyn’s, but they continued on, refusing to be bogged by monotonous scenery or the steadily warming temperature.  They’d just crank up their tunes and sing harder than ever.

 **My best friend gave me the best advice**  
He said each day's a gift and not a given right  
Leave no stone unturned, leave your fears behind,  
And try to take the path less traveled by  
That first step you take is the longest stride!  
  
If today was your last day  
And tomorrow was too late  
Could you say goodbye to yesterday?  
Would you live each moment like your last?  
Leave old pictures in the past  
Donate every dime you have?  
If today was your last day…  
  
Against the grain should be a way of life!  
What's worth the prize is always worth the fight!  
Every second counts 'cause there's no second try,  
So live like you'll never live it twice!  
Don't take the free ride in your own life!  
  
If today was your last day  
And tomorrow was too late  
Could you say goodbye to yesterday?  
Would you live each moment like your last?  
Leave old pictures in the past  
Donate every dime you have?  
Would you call old friends you never see?  
Reminisce old memories  
Would you forgive your enemies?  
Would you find that one you're dreamin' of?  
Swear up and down to God above  
That you finally fall in love?  
If today was your last day…  
  
If today was your last day  
Would you make your mark by mending a broken heart?  
You know it's never too late to shoot for the stars  
Regardless of who you are!  
So do whatever it takes  
'Cause you can't rewind a moment in this life!  
Let nothin' stand in your way  
Cause the hands of time are never on your side!  
  
If today was your last day  
And tomorrow was too late  
Could you say goodbye to yesterday?  
  
Would you live each moment like your last?  
Leave old pictures in the past  
Donate every dime you have?  
Would you call old friends you never see?  
Reminisce old memories  
Would you forgive your enemies?  
Would you find that one you're dreamin' of?  
Swear up and down to God above  
That you finally fall in love?  
If today was your last day… 

After a stretch of road which undulated up and down, the duo found themselves on US I-15, northbound for Las Vegas.  Shortly after merging onto the freeway, they stopped at the Valero gas station in Barstow, California, to regroup from the drive down Highway 58.

Luigi emerged from the men’s room to find Evelyn with a postcard in her hand.

“It’s from Val,” she said.

The postcard was a “report” from Val and his “deputy”, Paul.  They assured them that the last traces of the threat were being eliminated in L.A.  Paul was behaving himself, though he was prone to talk back and give into his impulses at times.  As for Val, he’d finally laid eyes on that special lady and was working up the guts to tell her how he felt.  Finally, Val warned that there was a surprise lying in wait for them deep in the desert, far away from any town or city.

“Glad he told us,” said Luigi.  “We’d better keep our eyes peeled.”

Now clad in more desert-worthy attire, Evelyn and Luigi continued their ride up Interstate 15.

“Maybe they have an ambush prepared for us,” Evelyn said after a while, “and they know the type of car we’re driving.  Are you sure there’s no other way to reach Vegas?”

“There’s a small burg called Ghost Town not far from here,” said Luigi.  “We could stop there and ponder our next move.  One thing we don’t want to do is endanger innocent lives.  They’ll have no qualms taking down any man, woman or child who stands in their way.”

“Ghost Town?  Calico Ghost Town?  I know that place,” murmured Evelyn.  “We’ll be in Yermo soon.  That’s also where Peggy Sue’s is located.”

“Have you driven this route before?” asked Luigi.

“Many times, before I settled down in Livingston.”

“Perfect.  I’m going to need your expertise.”

Without another word, Evelyn popped in a CD of 80s hits, and they drove on.

 **I walk along the avenue**  
I never thought I'd meet a girl like you  
Meet a girl like you

 **With auburn hair and tawny eyes**  
The kind of eyes that hypnotize me through  
You hypnotize me through

 **And I ran**  
I ran so far away  
I just ran  
I ran all night and day  
I couldn't get away

 **A cloud appears above your head**  
A beam of light comes shining down on you  
Shining down on you

 **The cloud is moving nearer still**  
Aurora Borealis comes in view  
Aurora comes in view

 **And I ran**  
I ran so far away  
I just ran  
I ran all night and day  
I couldn't get away

 **Reached out a hand to touch your face**  
You're slowly disappearing from my view  
Disappearing from my view

 **Reached out a hand to try again**  
I'm floating in a beam of light with you  
A beam of light with you

 **And I ran**  
I ran so far away  
I just ran  
I ran all night and day

 **And I ran**  
I ran so far away  
I just ran  
I ran all night and day

            Flying down a desert interstate, the two felt more alive than ever, freer than ever.  The A.C. cooled their skin as the hot sun cooked the earth below it.  Each sip of drinks sent cold thrills down their gullets.  Sunglasses tinted their world, eliminating it from the glare of sunlight.  Inside the car itself was full of energy and joy and optimism.  Though there was a possible ambush looming, they were just content to be just present and _there_.  They passed the remnants of a water park and laughed about how silly it was to have a water park smack in the middle of nowhere; that must’ve sealed its fate because look how far it was from any residence—it wouldn’t have been good for business, anyway.  It would be pointless to try and put anything in its place.

            When they reached the Calico Ghost Town, the first thing they did was pull into a gas station, a Chevron this time.  The person manning the register had a DVD waiting for them.  After purchasing a Lotto ticket each, Evelyn and Luigi hopped back into their car, turned on the air conditioning and inserted the DVD into Evelyn’s portable DVD player.

            Paul waved cheerily at them, holding a Luigi plushie under one arm.  “Hi, L!  Hi, Miss Evelyn!  Look what I can do!”  He then proceeded to do a Luigi impression.  After he finished, he continued, “Mr. Val and I hope you’re okay and that you have fun in Vegas.  See, he made me a deputy!”  He held up some sort of pin.  “I wish you could see me now.  I’m not scared of those bullies anymore!  I’ve kicked a lot of their butts!  And after that, Mr. Val sent them away for a very long timeout.”

            Luigi chuckled.

            “Hey, what do you know about Pokémon?  I know you’ve seen a lot of them in Smash.  Wasn’t one of them mean to you?  I hope it wasn’t Pikachu; I like him a bunch.  He’s my favorite Pokémon!”  He gestured to a Pikachu doll resting not far away.  “I play with your plushie and the Pikachu plushy a lot.  They’re good friends.  Are you and Pikachu good friends?”

            “We are,” said Luigi.

            “What does he mean by one of them not being nice to you?” asked Evelyn.

            “Did you hear?  Mewtwo and I used to be buddies in Melee.  At first, when he came back, he was friendly with me, but his attitude changed all of a sudden.  He teamed up with two people to torment me after attacking me solo.”

            “No, I wouldn’t see Pikachu being a bully.  He’s in that Pokken Tournament thing, too, isn’t he?”

            “He has to; he’s their mascot.”

            “It must be tiring, competing in two tournaments at once,” murmured Evelyn.

            “He doesn’t seem to mind,” Luigi told her.

            “I’ve just started playing Pokken Tournament, and I’m having a blast as Pikachu!  I play as a few others, but most of the time, I’m Pikachu.  I think I’m getting really good with him!

            “Oh!  Back to what I was saying.  Mr. Val and I did some searching into the possible desert ‘surprise’, and we found out that it’s a Pokémon!  A Legendary, to be exact!”

            “Oh, great.  A legendary breathing down our necks.  Just what we needed,” grumbled Evelyn.  “L—is there a Legendary you know having some beef against you?”

            “Besides Mewtwo?  I don’t think so…” His mouth flew open.  “Rayquaza, the mascot from the Emerald series.  He caused trouble for Fox and Diddy during the Subspace adventure, and I had to deal with him in the Great Maze.  Spike must’ve paid him big bucks to lure him over to his side.  Take this.”  He removed an Ice Flower and handed it to Evelyn.  “Rayquaza is next to vulnerable to ice and electricity.  Standard punches and kicks, along with your golf club, may work, as well.  They may not know this, but I always come prepared.”

            Evelyn’s clothes turned into a sky blue dress with light blue accents, her hair swept up by a blue ribbon.  She inhaled, feeling like she just sucked on a mint.  “I feel cooler already,” she quipped.

            Luigi took another Ice Flower for himself, his shirt and hat turning sky blue and his overalls turning periwinkle.  The intense coolness circulated through him, prompting him to turn the AC off.  The Ice Flower’s effects streamed through their bodies, producing a refreshing feeling while at the same time snapping all of their nerves to attention.

            “Wow, we should give these to the locals for free,” gasped Evelyn.

            Luigi’s eyes twinkled as he started his engine.  “If we had enough,” he added.

            As they continued to drive, Evelyn’s hair slowly began to turn blue.  It would reverse itself once the Ice Flower wore off.  Now, a crisp feeling suffused the car as their shared ice brought the temperature down.  Blue looked great on Luigi, really bringing out his eyes and the glow on his cheeks.  And it especially looked great on Evelyn, complimenting her alabaster skin, with her cool blue hair to match.  It was amazing that these two could rock a color associated with sorrow.  True, the mood in the car was coolly subdued, but not out of sadness.  It was in preparation and anticipation of a sneak attack by Rayquaza.

            Half an hour outside of Baker, home of the World’s Tallest Freestanding Thermometer, the unthinkable happened—the engine stalled out.  Fortunately, they were able to safely pull over to the side of the road.

            “Now what?” sighed Luigi as he pulled up the hood of his car.

            Evelyn joined him, armed with some tools.  “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we broke down here,” she said.

            “I don’t even think this was really an accident,” said Luigi.

            “Nope,” said Evelyn as she inspected the engine.  “This baby was tampered with.”

            “You’re good at mechanics?” asked Luigi.

            “I’m good at a lot of things, L.  You?”

            “A long time ago, Mario was a carpenter, and I wanted to roll up my sleeves, too.  Before the two of us got into plumbing, I dabbled as a mechanic.  Let’s roll up our sleeves and get started, shall we?”

            Thanks to their mechanics skills, Luigi and Evelyn quickly located the source of the issue.  Someone had put a weird object on the engine, probably when they were in the parking lot at Calico.  In concentrated silence, they worked, carefully and delicately removing the mysterious object from the engine.  They agreed to keep this object handy as evidence against Spike before setting to work fixing the engine up.

            “I think we’re good,” Evelyn said after a while.

            “Yeah.  Good teamwork,” added Luigi.

            “Just stay on your toes,” warned Evelyn.  “Whoever did this has probably prepared an ambush.”

            “You think?”

            As they put the finishing touches on their repair work, a loud roar sounded through the desert.

            “Oh, boy,” deadpanned Evelyn.  “Look who’s here.”

            The car was nearly forgotten as the duo took their fighting stances.  Seconds later, another roar rang out, and a green, serpentine creature burst its way out from the sand.

            “Rayquaza,” gasped Luigi.

            “Please, call me Quaz,” said the Legendary Pokémon.

            “I wonder, Quaz,” Evelyn said coolly.  “How much did Spike pay you for this?”

            “Let’s see—I get my own personal spa tower at Caesar’s Palace, free slot play, VIP access—the list of perks goes on and on,” bragged Quaz, “but in a few moments, none of that will matter to you.”

            “Oh, yes it will!” Evelyn and Luigi shouted as one, shooting twin streams of ice at Quaz.

            Quaz reeled backward at the attack, briefly freezing up.  As his opponents expected, the ice had significantly drained his health.  But Quaz was going to give them a battle to remember.  He rose regally, staring sternly at his two challengers.  “So be it,” he intoned.  “Nobody leaves until someone is defeated.”

            Evelyn and Luigi stood shoulder to shoulder, never breaking Quaz’s intimidating gaze.  The plumber reached out and closed a cool hand over his companion’s.  In response, Evelyn gave a firm squeeze.

            The duo unleashed a powerful battle cry, their voices merging in harmony and becoming one, as they met Quaz’s charge.  Evelyn landed the first strike, forming an icy fist and slamming it into Quaz’s middle, where most of the nerves were located.  Half a breath later, Luigi delivered a flying kick to Quaz’s face.  Again, the monster reeled backward, giving Evelyn an opportunity to fire a stream of ice at his tail while Luigi formed ice in his left hand and jabbed it at Quaz’s neck.  Next, Evelyn jumped in and threw a quick flurry of hooks, and then Luigi swept low with his breakdance kick, almost toppling Quaz.

            The Legendary hopped up and went on the offensive, attacking with his tail.  His opponents were fast, but the crafty Quaz could catch them off guard and cause them stinging pain with his tail swipes.  When he managed to trip them, he ducked low and rushed them headlong, but the duo rolled out of the way.

            They positioned themselves so that Evelyn was in front of Quaz and Luigi was behind him.  This was where Evelyn had the most skill, touching an icy finger to her golf club and turning it into an invincible, frozen, crystalline weapon with a conveniently pointy tip.  She twirled her new weapon around herself, concealing her body with a flurry of snowflakes, and then went in for the kill.  Quaz was practically blinded by the icy volley currently assailing his front, punches, kicks and melee attacks seemingly coming out of nowhere in the swirl of ice.  At the same time, searing electricity coursed through his back as Luigi resorted to his elemental powers and electrified both of his fists, relentlessly pounding at his foe.

            Quaz decided to put their fun to an end and released a giant ball of electricity.  Luigi’s call of warning came a fraction too late, and the lightning orb blasted through her icy covering.  Quaz followed up with an underground sneak attack, targeting the man in green and then a recovering Evelyn.

            “Oh, you wanna get dirty?” snapped Evelyn.  “Then let’s get dirty!”

            As one, the duo jumped and kicked Quaz squarely in the head and then fired ice at his torso.  Then, Evelyn kept up her icy blows and kicks while Luigi drew from his powerful smash attacks.  They were so into their concentrated assault that they didn’t see Quaz’s eyes glowing until it was nearly too late.

            The two were spiked into the ground, and seconds later, an explosion launched them high into the air.  Quaz roared with glee, flew up and then unleashed a multi-hitting lighting attack.  At the finish of the move, he crashed atop them.

            He looked down and was shocked to his tail when the two calmly rose to their feet.

            “Impossible…” he babbled.

            “Nothing is impossible, if you put your mind to it,” Luigi told him, ice and electricity circulating in his hands, “and since Evelyn and I have put our minds to beating you, we’re going to do it!”

            “Yeah!” cried Evelyn.

            Quaz roared again and raced back and forth, trying to flatten them.  They always managed to dodge and crawl out of the way, counterattacking whenever they saw an opening.  Often, while Quaz charged, they’d slip into a small space caused by his wavy body and land a punch, a kick or an iceball there.  In between charging, Quaz would repeat the moves he executed before, sometimes hitting and sometimes missing.  When she wasn’t battering Quaz with it, Evelyn would use her icy golf club to enshroud herself and her partner, allowing them to get away with many aerial blows.  But as Quaz’s health waned, his attacks became stronger and more repetitive.  His opponents’ bodies ached all over, and they were slightly dizzy from heavily bleeding noses.  But he could see their icy powers pulsing around them and in their eyes.  Evelyn accidentally-on-purpose discovered that she could use her blue hair to fire diagonal ice sheets at Quaz, and that her ice staff had some healing power.  Under the hot desert sun, the clash raged on, both sides sustaining great damage but neither of them giving in.

            At last, Quaz had a small amount of health left.  Evelyn stood before him in a balanced stance, closed her eyes and concentrated.  As her mind gathered up whatever ice she had left, she cupped her hands close to her left hip, the ice generating into a ball.  It was tiny at first, but it began to grow bigger and bigger.

            Luigi joined her, cupping his hands around hers and adding his own ice.  Together, they let their iceball grow—and grow—and GROW—until it was the size of a snowman’s base.  With one last shout, they hurled their projectile at Quaz.  They watched as it slammed into the Legendary, wiping away the last of his energy and brought him crumpling to the ground.

            For a moment, the two basked in the afterglow of their victory before approaching their fallen foe.

            “You have shown me awesome might and effective teamwork,” Quaz said softly.  “I hereby renounce my ties to Spike and place myself at your service.  I will tell you everything you’ll need to know.”

            “Thank you,” said Evelyn.  “Do you need help?”

            “I will be able to heal myself before long,” said Quaz, “and I see that you have some car trouble.  In a few moments, I will be able to tow you to your destination.”

            “Will you drop this off at a repair shop?” asked Luigi.

            “Sure,” smiled Quaz.  “My apologies for meeting this way.”

            Once he got his strength back, Quaz was good on his word and hooked his tail to the front of Luigi’s car.  The pair simply relaxed and enjoyed the ride as Quaz guided them back onto the interstate and escorted them the last hundred miles to Vegas.  Truly, he was a sight to see that day.

            “Thanks for the ride,” said Luigi as he and Evelyn climbed out of the vehicle.

            “Anytime,” said Quaz as he hauled the car away to a repair shop.

            Luigi and Evelyn proceeded to Caesar’s palace to check into a room for a few days.

            “You’re in luck; a room has already been reserved for you,” said the receptionist. 

            “Really?” gasped Evelyn.

            “Yes.  A Mr. Mobus made arrangements for your arrival and wants us to make sure that neither of you will want for anything.”

            “Tell him we said thank you,” said Luigi as they received their room keys.

            The room reserved for them was a suite similar to the one Quaz described.

            “I think I know who’s making sure we’re treated like royalty,” murmured Luigi.

            “Really.”

            “Yeah.  It’s good to know that he cares about me.”  He felt the coolness melting away as the Ice Flower wore off.  Evelyn was back in her regular clothes, and her hair was back to its blonde color.

            “I just can’t wait to clean house for Spike,” smiled Evelyn.

            Luigi plunked himself down on one of the beds.  “Me, neither.  But for now, let’s rest awhile.”   


	35. Desert Wind

_She barely felt the icy grasp of the cuffs as she lay on the bed, ignoring it in favor of the intense pleasure blossoming all over her body.  His experienced tongue flicked its way along her skin, from the winged collarbone of her neck to the base of her stomach, and then back up.  He allowed his fingers to trail her nakedness, amplifying the maddening, pleasing feeling welling up inside of her.  She was warm, wet and tingly, and he knew it.  He was the kind of man who knew how to prepare a lady._

_“I didn’t know a strip-search was required,” she purred as she stretched herself out._

_“A good private investigator leaves no stone unturned,” he purred back, kissing her lips and then continuing down gently, swirling his tongue round her pink-topped domes and making her breathe heavily with anticipation.  She used her free hand to caress his face, smooth, freshly shaven, his jaw nice and square.  His hazel eyes were filled with tenderness, and she knew that what they had was_ real _, that it wasn’t just a friends-with-benefits arrangement.  There was his mouth on her torso, and—she released a moan and arched her back, feeling his warm hands tease her inner thighs._

_“I still don’t know the crime for which I stand accused,” she said seductively._

_“Never fear.  You’re innocent until proven guilty.”_

_“And what proof—oh!”  She was cut off as his fingers met her walls and began exploring the moistness.  And then the fingers began to move, sure and confident movements which made her mind go blank except for that wonderful feeling rocketing toward her, her breath now irregular as he stopped suckling on her skin and positioned his mouth in the right place.  As soon as his tongue inched out, the throbbing warmth seemed to grab hold of it and her hips began to wiggle._

_She was shouting now, shouting fervently, as he rubbed and licked and suckled.  Her fingers played with his jet black tresses as she held his head in place, moaning and saying his name, her whole body keeping time with him.  He was shocked at how slick she was—he’d been with other women, but it was the first time he’d done something like this.  He told himself that he would do this only to a special lady.  And here was the special lady, panting, blonde hair in disarray, anticipating more.  He scooted his fingers past his mouth and started pumping them like he meant it, scrambling her brain and sending seismic heaves of ecstasy rolling over her.  Ever since he was a boy, he vowed never to make a girl scream unless it was in delight or happiness.  So, the lustful shrieks reaching his ears told him that he was doing this correctly._

_These steamy ministrations lasted for about an hour.  The flushed form splayed out on the bed watched with widening eyes as he reached down and unveiled her prize—a thick, meaty and glistening Polish sausage almost as long as a certain green-clad plumber’s nose.  He finally unlocked the cuffs so that she could examine her treat with both hands, and without a moment’s hesitation she opened wide, and…_

_It was his turn to be taken by surprise as she heartily engulfed his frankfurter like a famished person, demonstrating her strong jaw and throat muscles as he twitched and jerked.  Just as his world was about to go white, she stopped and withdrew, giving the Tootsie-Roll Pop a parting lick._

_“Here comes the fun part,” he said in her ear as his Polish sausage slid easily into her hot dog bun._

_At the size of him, she nearly fell apart right then and there._

_“Oh, my God—Val!!” Evelyn hollered as her fellow Luigi fan took her ardently, swelling even further with each tender thrust._

_He responded with a hearty chuckle, going deeper, faster and at different angles so it seemed that he was meeting her from all directions.  Her walls hugged him close and anointed his mushrooming shroom in her holy water, pulsating in and out as they became one._

_“Val—Val—Val,” Evelyn screamed with desire, her stomach sucking back and forth and sweat popping out on her skin as she breathed hard.  “For God’s sake, don’t stop!  Make me yours!”_

_“Only if you make me mine,” he said between kisses._

_“Yes—oh, yes!”_

_He slowed, and then paused, “marinating” inside of her, tasting the moistness on her skin and pinpointing all of the sensitive spots as her receptacle continued to hug, squeeze and yank on the junior P.I.  Evelyn fought to get her breathing back on track, small shudders traveling along her, and as he rubbed her edges, these shudders increased.  Still stationary, Val sighed lovingly as he observed her, wiggling and gasping and tenaciously holding on as she did in all aspects of her life._

_“Oh, Evelyn,” he said as his thrusts started up again.  “I’m glad I found you.”_

_“I’m glad I found_ you _,” whispered Evelyn._

 

            Evelyn woke up then, finding herself alone in bed with the sheets wrapped around her.   She disentangled herself and glanced at the clock.  Good.  It would be time to wake up soon.  Gray dawn was visible outside her window, the city lights still luminous and beautiful.  She heard stirring in the room next to her and surmised that Luigi was just waking up, too.  It was a good thing that Master Hand and Mario pooled their resources to upgrade them to these adjoining rooms.  They could cross on over and visit at leisure while still having their own beds, their own bathrooms and their own TVs.

            These wet dreams had been going on for quite a while now, and they always ended the same—waking up before the good part.  Why these fantasies came out of the blue, she had no idea.  But she knew that she couldn’t get Val out of her mind.  They’d known each other for a long time, and it wasn’t just their shared respect for the man in green which drew her to him.  He was virtuous, pure-hearted and fought for truth, justice and the common good.  She was free-spirited, generous and spoke her mind.  They clicked on so many levels.  It wasn’t just recently that she started having feelings for him—they’d been swimming around in her mind about a year into their friendship.  She was just waiting for the right time to break it to him.

            But “the right time” had sneaked past her.  Now, that option was closed to her.  Val had met and fallen in love with someone else.  Evelyn wasn’t one to mope around, though—she assured herself that there were plenty of other fish in the sea, and soon, the right guy—or girl—would come her way.

            Now, however, she started having these dreams, and they were growing steamier and steamier.  Of all the times to have dreamy, steamy dreams about the one that got away, this had to be it?  She and her idol had a mission to fulfill and a bully to put in his place.  Her personal problems would be shelved and dealt with later.

            Most of all, she really wanted to know what was in those Mushrooms she’d been eating lately.

            Luigi and Evelyn had been in Las Vegas for nearly a month, slowly discovering Spike and his network.  In the process, they acquainted themselves with the best of Sin City, from the dancing fountains at Bellagio to the M&M Factory to the moving statue show at Caesar’s Palace and the staged pirate ship battle at Treasure Island.  They went to Circus-Circus for the free circus acts and the indoor amusement park known as the Adventuredome.  They drank in the Show in the Sky at the Rio.  And they came across tourists and locals ready and willing to help.

            Their only worry was that somehow Koopa had beaten them there and had warned Spike.  Once _he_ knew what they were up to—neither was willing to finish the thought.

            “Eve?  You up?” asked Luigi’s voice.

            “Yeah.  I’m just about to jump into the shower,” she called back.

            “Can you meet me in here, and we’ll talk about today’s agenda?”

            “Sure.”

            Evelyn discarded her nightgown, bundled her hair into a shower cap and stepped into her shower.  As the water began cascading over her and her bath sponge became covered in soapy suds, she allowed the sensual images of her dreams to creep back into her mind…

            If only she knew that _she_ was the “special lady” Val was referring to, and that he’d been having similar dreams longer than her…

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            “Wow,” breathed Paul.  “Is this Las Vegas?”

            “Yup, in all its glory,” Val told him.  “What do you think?”

            “It’s so huge!” gaped Paul.

            “And it’s mostly for grown-ups,” Val explained.  “Don’t worry—they have arcades, and Circus-Circus is among the most kid-friendly with their Adventuredome and free circus acts at the Midway.  But you cannot be near those slot machines, or you’ll get them in trouble.”

            “Okay.”

            The P.I and his little assistant had slipped quietly into Sin City via a Southwest Airlines jet.  Paul had enjoyed the free peanuts during the flight, as well as the birds-eye view of the world.  During the landing, however, the kid had gotten airsick.  Luckily, Val had come prepared and offered up a barf bag and some flat ginger ale, and a crisis was averted.

            When Val had told Paul that they were going to Vegas, Paul had objected.  “L said to stay here.”

            “I know.  He wants me to look after our wonderful fans in this lovely city.  But be honest—when your parents told you to do something, how often have you done it?”

            “Well…”

            “Besides, he can say all he wants, but he’s my friend, and he needs me.  He needs you, too.”

            Paul had eventually agreed and packed a small suitcase.

            After a two hour or so flight, Val and Paul landed at McCarran International Airport, purchased traveler’s insurance and hailed a cab to Caesar’s Palace, where they checked into a room with two beds.  After unpacking their things, Paul suited up in a Pikachu costume, and Val put on his Luigi outfit.  Now, they were in full-on cosplayer mode.

            From the casino, they took a taxi to the Las Vegas Convention Center, where a Smash convention was scheduled.  From the roster, one or two representatives from each universe (except for the universes represented only by one fighter) had been selected to neck with the gamers, fans and cosplayers.  There were Mario and Peach from Mario’s universe, DK from the DK universe, Zelda and Link from the Legend of Zelda universe, Pikachu from the Pokémon universe, Samus, toting collapsible armor fit for travel, from the Metroid universe, Ness and Lucas from Mother/Earthbound, Kirby and Meta Knight from the Kirby universe, Fox and Falco from the Star Fox universe and Pit and Palutena from the Kid Icarus universe.  Reflet and Lucina represented Fire Emblem, Douglas represented F-Zero, R.O.B. represented Q*Bert, Mr. G&W represented Game and Watch and Olimar represented Pikmin.  There were the third-party people—Little Mac, Mega Man, Pac-Man, Wii Fit Trainer, Ryu, Cloud and Bayonetta.  And there were some former Smashers, showing some love, from Wolf to the Ice Climbers to Young Link and Pichu.  There would be booths, games and activities, bounce houses, live entertainment, tournament match-ups—and combo exhibitions by the Smashers themselves.  And let’s not forget the free food!

            Paul and Val were among the first ones to arrive.  The doors would not open for another twenty minutes.  Luckily, Val spotted another familiar face to chat up.

            “Christine,” he greeted the young mother as Paul busied himself on his Nintendo 3DS.

            “Hi,” she replied simply.

            “What do you have for me?”

            “Koopa is scheduled to arrive here tomorrow afternoon,” whispered Christine, “and he’s brought a lot of his troops with him.  Spike is staying at an executive suite at Caesar’s Palace and has some employees on his payroll.  Even some of the law enforcement here is on his side.  Tread carefully, Val, and that goes double for your little boy.”

            “Oh, he’s not my son,” blushed Val.  “We just united for a common cause.  He’s the Watson to my Holmes.”

            “Still, he needs to understand the situation.  Spike is not like the villains in comic books or Saturday morning cartoons.  He’ll show him the same mercy he shows anyone daring to challenge him.”

            “I’ll keep that in mind,” shuddered Val.  “It was nice talking to you.”

            “Same here.”

            Then, Christine went back to tending her son and Val went to check on Paul.  To his relief, he was still absorbed in his video game, his Pikachu owning a Ness spammer in For Glory.

            “Hey,” he said.  “Wanna 1v1 me?”

            “You have a 3DS?”

            “Yeah.  Final Destination?”

            “You got it.”

            As they went head to head in a series of stock battles, Paul whispered, “Don’t quote me on this, but I think Skull Bash came before Green Missile.”

            “Gosh, not that again,” groaned Val.  “You’re a very good Pikachu.  You were right to main him.”

            “Luigi is my secondary.  I was intrigued by his playstyle.”

            “Me, too.  Always have been.”

            Just as Paul two-stocked Val in their eighteenth stock battle, the doors finally opened.

            “Welcome,” said the doorperson, taking the guests’ ticket stubs and stamping hands.

            The convention was now underway.  Peach and Mario were signing autographs and answering questions when the Princess’s eye fell on the man and boy.

            “Hey, isn’t that Luigi’s L.A. friend?” she asked Mario.

            “Yeah.  What’s he doing here?”

            “I don’t know, but we’d better tell Luigi and his companion,” Peach said to him.

            Mario waved the duo over.  “Over here!”

            “Princess?” asked Val.

            “Mario!” squealed Paul.

            “What are you guys doing?  You’re supposed to be in L.A.!” cried Peach.

            “Everything’s fine there.  I have someone taking care of things.”

            “My bro said not to come looking for him,” Mario put in.

            Val sighed.  “He’s in danger.  There are spies everywhere, and Spike must’ve found out he’s here.   He’s so powerful that some of the casino employees work for him.  Either by bribery, deceit or intimidation—he’s made it clear that he won’t go down as easily as Tristan or the others.”

            “You know we’re going to tell him,” warned Peach.

            Val nodded.  “You may do that,” he said, “but I’m not abandoning him.  Not here, not ever.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            The morning had involved Luigi and Evelyn “casing the perimeter”, the perimeter being Caesar’s Palace and its sister casinos.  They quickly discovered that some enemies were hidden in plain sight, and Spike’s influence extended across much of the Strip.  Christine had texted them with information regarding Spike’s whereabouts and warnings about his clout, hinting that some old friends were around to help them.  Before setting their offensive into motion, the two decided to meet up with these old friends.  Judging from the fact that a Smash convention was in town, Luigi had some clue who the “old friends” were.

            “Somehow I knew L.A. couldn’t hold him,” he murmured.

            Evelyn’s breath hitched.  “Val’s here?”

            “Yeah.  At a Smash Con.  We’ll rendezvous and compare notes there.”

            “What about Paul?”

            “Val took him along.  And Christine is there with her little boy.”

            “Any Smashers?”

            “Of course.  One or two fighters representing a universe, plus the third-party fighters.  We’ll figure out a way to slip in unnoticed and disrupt Spike’s agenda.”

            “Once we figure out what it is,” murmured Evelyn.

            “Spreading his hateful gospel, for one,” said Luigi, “and I can only imagine what his plans for my fans are.”

            Evelyn let out a slow breath.

            “You okay?” asked Luigi with concern.

            “Yeah.  I’m awesome,” Evelyn said quickly.  “Val showing up just threw me for a loop.”

            “How about we relax before heading out to the Con?”

            “Sure,” nodded Evelyn.

            They headed over to the spa, where Evelyn wasted no time booking an appointment for a facial, a massage and a body wrap.  A glass of watermelon-infused water in hand, she relaxed in the sauna, clad in nothing but a towel, imagining Val accidentally walking in on her like they did in the daytime dramas, sparks flying, the steam shrouding them as they kissed and dropped their towels and—no.  He was spoken for now because she didn’t speak up.  The lucky lady had better count her blessings each time he touched her, kissed her and pleased her.  Evelyn sipped her water and then slipped one hand under her towel, the pads of her fingers exploring her condensation-beaded skin.  Her eyes slid closed, fingers beginning to dance and flick about herself, becoming sensuous, circular motions at key areas.  Lips compressed together to avert moans, and her other hand set down her water to join in.  She giggled as she teased a ticklish patch and then began to massage and manipulate expertly, taking comfort in the solitude of the steam.  She lavished on her two “little girls”—starting with the rosebudded tip top and lazily working her way down—petite, domed peaks, they were, but they never made her self-conscious.  Pressing down with finger pads, caressing, fondling.  Skimming the small valley in between.  The towel wrapped round her head began to come loose, and she made no move to redo it.  Her motions became more furious, the towel slid off, and down tumbled her wet hair.  She smelled hair care products and the steam and felt it stick to her face; she was past caring.  She was an innie and had a 32” waist, and she was proud of it.  It wasn’t for others that she was keeping in shape, but for herself; she wasn’t a health nut or figure-obsessed, but she couldn’t help but gloss over celebs and swimsuit models in the magazines.  The sauna fell away.  Everything else fell away as fingers and hands reached their ultimate destination.  Fingers dove in, and she arched herself upwards.  Rockets and starbursts whizzed before her closed eyelids.  This was her time and she was going to use it to decompress.  Her tension gradually lessened, thoughts about her missed chance and the one that got away releasing from her brain like a handful of balloons, drifting into space, never to perturb her again.  She softened her hands but increased her speed, driving deep, torso pulling in and back out as she rubbed it with her free hand.

            “Val…” she whispered, feeling her wet, messy hair fall in her face, splay on her shoulders and tickle her bosom.  She started moving hands and fingers another way, another direction, driving herself mad.  These swirling sensation ruled her, and she didn’t know if she could remain silent with them.  The last thing she wanted was to attract attention to herself—especially if there were potential moles around.  So, she made herself take a break and let her tempestuous feelings quell for a bit before resuming more relentlessly than ever.

            Somehow, the edge of her mind registered the door sliding open and then closed, and then a perky voice sent her back to Earth.

            “Hi, I’m Daisy!”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            The man sat in his hotel suite, playing with his pet cat.  “It seems that our location has been betrayed,” he said.

            “Yes, sir.  Luigi and a female companion by the name of Evelyn Fisk have gained wind of everything.”

            “And who is this betrayer, I wonder?”

            “It seems that they encountered Quaz and turned him against us.  He’s disappeared from our radar.”

            “Is there any news on Koopa?”

            “He’s on his way here, sir.  I think you’d like to know that Luigi has company.  There is a Smash Bros convention being held, with the best Smashers in attendance.  Our plant has alerted us of that P.I. and his pint-sized buddy planning a rendezvous there?  Shall we send them a greeting?”

            “Not yet.  We’ll let them get comfortable and lower their guard, and then we’ll strike.  In the meantime, we must check for more traitors in our midst.”

            “It’s a shame that the Piantas got to our friends in Isle Delfino.”

            The man shrugged.  “They only know half the story.  At least they don’t know the juicy part—the part we never talk about in case there are eavesdroppers about.”

            “You still must use caution, sir.  Luigi has become braver, and thus more dangerous.”

            “Then let us meet in a fair fight.  Our battle will be legendary.”

            “Will that be all, Mr. Spike?”

            “Yes, that will be all.”

            “Silly little man in green,” scoffed Spike.  “He thinks he’s so smart.  We’ll see who gets the last laugh!”

           


	36. Interlude: Princess Diary

**Dear Diary,**

**I think about him in my waking hours and dream about him at night.  I remember when we spoke on the phone, my joy that he was okay.  Oh, boy—if only I can sum up all of my insecurities about his mission, but I have always brought myself up to be optimistic, no matter what.  Optimism really does me good, since I’m snatched every other day of the week!**

**Mario and I finally got our chance to glimpse what Luigi is up to when we were selected to represent the Mario universe at the Las Vegas Smash Convention.  We kind of wished that Luigi was there to represent so he could pull off those combos of his at the exhibition.  Then, it occurred—maybe we could meet up with him, or he’d drop in and say hi.  He always makes sure he’s in the know about these kinds of things, ever since the combo exhibition he participated in two years ago.**

**The night before, I slip down a Warp Pipe with Mario to Sin City.  Master has already arranged a luxurious room for us at Planet Hollywood.  The other reps will be staying at Planet Hollywood, as well.  I’m so nervous and decide that a nice shower will calm me down.  Just as I get the water temperature to my liking, Mario slips into the shower with me.  He has a different idea of decompressing which involves a sturdy Mushroom, a slick Warp Pipe and a wet, wet world.  The bathroom soon becomes filled with our moans as we let it all out of our systems, commingled with other—wet—sounds.  After we feel better, he goes to dry off, and I rinse down the evidence, resuming my wash.**

**Mario waits for me as I emerge in my bath towel.  Since Luigi maintains close contact with him, he has more knowledge of what’s going on with him.  He updates me on his whereabouts—Luigi and his new friend have spent the last few days investigating Spike and his activities.  They received help from a former minion, Quaz, who offered them a thick pamphlet containing who, what, when, where and why before skipping town, perhaps to avoid Spike’s wrath.  They won’t move in until they’ve formulated a sure plan.  Smart choice.**

**That night, I ask the Stars to watch over Luigi and use my Wish powers to make sure he comes to no harm.  I also ask for any and every Luigi fan out there to use their prayers to keep him safe.  When I fall asleep, I dream of a girl in a pink dress.  Her name is Paula, and she tells me that she received my message and that we can communicate telepathically.  I know that her power of prayer saved the world from Gigyas; Ness told me back in Melee.  Now, Paula has sent out another telepathic message to her friends and all of the Luigi fans in the world, to come together and pray for him and protect him against attack.  Coupled with my magic and the Stars’ magic, I can safely say that Luigi is in good hands.**

**I awaken to a familiar sensation between my legs.  My eyes open to find Mario waking me up in his own unique way.  The convention is today, and we have to get ready.  But I’m hot and wet for my plumber, and he’s hungry for me, so we blow off more steam with a few morning rounds in the bedroom.  Room service comes with our breakfast, which we eat in bed while we make small talk.  After our breakfast comes more friskiness; we finish it up in the shower and, fully satisfied, get a jump on our day.**

**We meet the other representatives outside the convention center, which opens early for us so we can help set up.  The voices of the attendees are heard.  Among them is a young kid obviously playing Smash Bros on his 3DS with another man, presumably his father.  By the time the guests are let in, everything is ready.  The live entertainment, the activities, the booths, the Q &A tables, the food court, the tournament area—and the big combo exhibitions at the end.  I always love it when these conventions roll around.**

**And so many familiar faces—the legends!  Jigglypuff is squealing with delight at the man tying a familiar green headband around her head.  Fox chats with Leffen, Mango, Hax and Westballz.  I myself am confronted with Armada; we say a hearty how’ve-you-been.  HomeMadeWaffles, Mew2King, even Taj—they’re all here.  We see eager Smash fans ready to mingle with us, and we have most of the answers to their questions, as well as questions for them.  Our pens are fresh and ready to leave autographs.  I feel the energy all around me and it pumps me up.  That’s good.  I need it for later.**

**My keen eyes notice a man with jet-black hair, hazel eyes and a square jaw, dressed as Luigi.  Beside him merrily skips a boy in a Pikachu suit.**

**Wait a minute—I know them!**

**It’s Val and Paul!  What are they doing in Vegas?**

**Mario and I confront the duo, and I make good on my threat to tell Luigi on them.  He doesn’t sound angry.  How odd.**

**We all agree to meet up here to catch up, put a viable plan together and knock everyone’s socks off when it’s time to show off our combos.**

**And that’s why Mario and I are killing time with a private eye/gamer/cosplayer and a young Boy Scout/Luigi fan.**

**That’s why the future looks less foreboding now.**

**Luigi’s on his way here, so I have to go.  I’ll tell you how things went later!**

**Yours truly,**

**Princess Toadstool**

**Peach**


	37. Meet-Ups

_Several moments prior_

            At the men’s side of the spa, Luigi was greatly anticipating his massage and full-body waxing.  He changed into a complimentary robe and put all of his clothes and accessories into a locker, closing and locking it.  Before his appointment, he was going to take advantage of the Jacuzzi and the steam room to get him in the mood.

            As he made sure everything was securely in place, Luigi’s nose caught a familiar scent.

            “Fancy running into you here, Lu,” said a perky, feminine voice.

            Luigi started to turn around.  “Oh, my goodness…!”

            Daisy halted him with a gesture.  “We can’t be seen talking together.  These casinos are full of Spike’s spies—even the receptionists at the front and the guy who will be attending to you shortly.”

            “Oh, right.”  Luigi sat back down and re-opened the locker door so that he could see Daisy’s reflection in the inside mirror.  “When did you get here?”

            “Just now, under royal guard.  You?”

            “A couple of weeks ago, with a friend.”

            “Evelyn?”

            “Yes.”

            “What does _she_ look like?”

            “Like—a cashier at a mini-mart,” stammered Luigi.  “I—heard you intercepted Koopa in Fresno and confiscated his stolen goods.  He’s on his way here and likely wants revenge.”

            “Don’t worry; he’ll never touch me,” crowed Daisy.  “There’s a Smash Con happening, did you know?”

            “Yep.  After relaxing a bit, Evelyn and I will head over there.”

            “You know, I Skyped with Paul and Val a while back,” said Daisy.  “I think they’re nice people.”

            “They are,” said Luigi.  “Evelyn has a thing for Val.  I can see it in how she reacts when I speak his name.  I’ll probably bring it to Val’s attention at the Con.”

            “He says he’s found his special lady,” Daisy told him.  “I think he’s talking about Evelyn.”

            “What else do you know about my new friends?”

            “Paul was the fan who was attacked earlier.  He mains both you and Pikachu, he’s a Boy Scout, and he’s Val’s deputy.  Evelyn works at the TA in Livingston, California and saved your life.  You met Val at a gym in Los Angeles, where he helped you take down Tristan.

            Stick with me, L, and we can lure Spike into a trap.  Give him a taste of his own medicine and bring the skeletons tumbling out of his closet.  So, let me tag along to the convention.  There’s no telling who I’ll meet.”

            “Good idea,” said Luigi.  “The employees are bound to spot you soon.”

            “No worries; I paid them off.  A good Princess needs a backup plan, right?”  She slipped out of her robe, and Luigi drank in the image of her bare, creamy back in the mirror.  “Tell you what—meet me in the sauna, and we’ll finish our conversation.”  She wrapped her body in a towel, tucked her auburn hair into another towel, kissed Luigi on the cheek and scurried off.

            Closing and locking his locker, Luigi stood, slipped the key into the pocket of his robe and followed after his Princess.

            At the door to the sauna, he shrugged off his robe, fastened a towel around his waist and entered the steamy room to find Daisy already situated, glass of fruit-infused water sitting beside her.  Through the steam, he could make out her beautiful smile as she elegantly rose and approached him.

            He claimed her lips and probed her mouth with his tongue as she ran her hands up and down his chest, gripped the edges of his towel and pulled him closer.  As their lips parted, Luigi took his time in “unwrapping” his “treat”, kissing her neck, her chest and her shoulder blades and catching droplets of condensation on his tongue.  Her towel fell away and she stood there in her birthday suit, the shrouds of steam clinging to her body.  Flat stomach, muscled thighs and arms, dainty feet, strong hips, supple bosom—her “twins” striped like small melons.  He reached up and released the towel around her head, the luscious auburn waves tumbling down to her bare, magnificent shoulders.  She’d started to breathe a little hard, a good sign, as his soft hands set about exploring her.  Very wetly, he planted his mouth on the pink nubs of her cantaloupes, first the right and then the left, and began to lick and suck.  He’d enclose his lips around them, but he’d never use his teeth.  He continued with the rest of each globule, winding down and down, until he met the crevice in between and lick upwards.  Then, he traced kisses to her stomach, her breath slightly hitching and her muscles snapping to attention.  He loved ministering to her perfect contours accentuated by the steam beads; it was like he had microscopic vision and he could take in each wet pearl.  Her hands snaked down his back and found his own towel, wildly pulling at it as he tended to her exposed body with the deliberateness of an experienced lover.  Closer and closer to her navel went his mouth, and at the same time, his fingers felt along her hips and the edges of her curves and encountered her freshly waxed mound, and from there, he felt his way to her daisy petals—very slick daisy petals; he could only imagine what the flower bud would feel like.  And at the same time he molded his lips around her navel, his fingers went in.

            Her torso went taut against his face and her navel bobbed up and down; he timed his mouth and tongue to stay with it.  Daisy’s breathing was labored at the amazing things her plumber was doing to her innie and also in her special flower pot.  She felt her pot growing more and more fertile and wet trickles emerging on her inner thighs.  Her climate down there was perfect, as was her plumbing, and Luigi knew it.  Her wetlands slathered his gloves as he got deeper in her core.  The soft underside of his tongue painted her belly like a paint canvas, feeling her fingers stumble on his towel, stroke his face and then trickle back down; her navel welcomed his tongue, and as she huffed and puffed, she found where his towel was fastened and quickly unfastened it.  Pressure was relieved as his towel plopped to the steamy floor.  She whispered nonsensical things as she caressed him.  Finally, his mouth let go of her navel and dragged back up to her ear, whispering sultry words as he worked his fingers faster and faster.  His arms were now rapidly moving up and down, and her head was thrown back, offering glimpses of her collarbones and her tendons.  He skated his mouth along each collarbone and peppered the length of her neck with mouth work.  Her smell mingled with the smell of steam, and he worked his mouth back down, and back up, and back down, and back up—all the while pumping his fingers in her flower pod and listening to her lose control.

            Daisy ran her palm along one side of his mushroom, smiling internally as he jolted.  Without hesitation, she stroked him relentlessly, surprised at how inflated he was even before she started tending to him.

            “Mmm,” she said, angling herself so she could get a good look at him, pulsing before here very eyes.  “I missed you, too.”

            “Don’t just look at him,” he gasped.

            He pulled his fingers out, gently lowered her to the sauna’s lower seating area and felt her hug his hips with her legs.  They kissed and made out in this position before she felt his shroom bury itself into her Warp Pipe.

            “Luigi!!”

            Luckily, the hissing steam drowned out the noise as he moved with a soulful rhythm inside her.  When the position became a little uncomfortable, he picked her up, still thrusting, and then carried her to one of the slippery walls, a smooth, welcoming feeling against her back as he plunged deeper into her being, pelvis meeting pelvis and her pillows nestled comfortable against his chest.  Eyes stared unseeingly at their steamy world as sounds of fervid pleasure escaped their lips.  They ground their moist bodies against each other, nice deep grinds which left little to the imagination.  She was coating him, and she felt some warm runoff spilling over, which only excited her further.

            He emptied himself into her again and again as he guided her to her own releases seconds after.  When he was positive that he was milked dry, he used his tongue to finish her seven more times and held her close until the shudders within her body quieted.  Their towels did a handy job of clearing away the evidence.

            “Enjoy your pampering; it’s on me,” Daisy told her plumber before they shared another passionate kiss, and she padded quietly out of the sauna, leaving him relaxed and satiated.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Now, Evelyn found herself confronted with the towel-clad Princess of Sarasaland, a woman who caught her taking care of a _very_ personal matter.  Quickly, she covered herself back up, her cheeks turning pink.  If this was Ancient Greece, then everyone would be all over Daisy, since they glorified the human body so much.  She was sculpted like a goddess—no sagging or stretching or wrinkling, lean and muscular.  All of those hours playing sports, no doubt.  Her hair was damp from the steam and in serious disarray.  Her eyes were kind, calm and relaxed as she scrutinized the other woman.  Evelyn’s heart pounded in her chest as she scanned Daisy’s hairless limbs and her curves peeking from beneath the towel.  She was always comfortable in her own skin, but seeing Daisy kind of made her regret the binges of the past, the ice cream on a sad day, the slices of pie and the chocolate and her fast-food fixes—everything.  At least their domes were about the same size.

            Daisy moved over and sat next to Evelyn, the latter watching the former’s every move.  She took in Evelyn’s messy hair, her flushed appearance and her petite twins squished beneath her towel.  So, this was Luigi’s newest companion.  By the looks of things, she was taking care of herself, save for a few slip-ups.  Hard to believe she manned a cash register at a mini mart.  But the stretch marks were barely perceptible, the skin nice and firm and in its proper place.  Her hips were slightly wider, and she saw a bit of muscle carved out when she first walked in.  She also noticed the tightness and roundness of her belly button, and if she were to stand, the top of her head would reach Daisy’s nose.

            The two women drank each other in for a moment or two before Evelyn spoke.

            “I—I should’ve controlled myself.  I’m sorry…”

            “Don’t worry,” smiled Daisy.  “I didn’t see anything.”

            Evelyn sighed in relief.  “Thanks, Princess.”

            “You can just call me Daisy.”

            “I’m surprised to see you here,” said Evelyn.

            “Which is more than I can say for you.  Taking a working vacation, are we?”

            “Yeah.  What brings you here?”

            “I just want to check on Luigi,” said Daisy.  “As I matter of fact, we just—talked.”

            “I—can see that.”

            “I also have some information that you and our friends at the convention would love to know.  My subjects and I did some background checking on Spike, see.  And what we found out will blow your mind.”

            “What did you find out?” asked Evelyn.

            “Spike is like the other fiends Luigi has encountered, pretending to be nice to win over the right people and by the time he shows his true self, they’re in too deep.  He has no criminal record, either because his legal team bails him out, because he bribes law enforcement officials, or his genteel façade has allowed him to get away with virtually everything.  So, it’s going to be hard to prove that he’s the bad guy here.”

            “This is Stuart Bennigan all over again,” grumbled Evelyn.

            “So, he told you about Slimebag Stu,” observed Daisy.  “He played the victim and not only got Luigi in trouble, but also some of his friends.  Oh, yeah, Spike’s a lot like him—but what you _don’t_ know is that he’s engaged.”

            “Engaged?  Who’s the unlucky girl?”

            “Her name is Cerena, but her friends call her Cere.  Her parents arranged the marriage when she was still in diapers.  Spike is a close ‘family friend’.”

            “How do we find her?  Maybe she can help us.”

            “Yes, she can.  She’s a secret Luigi fan, but while she’s wild about him, her parents and fiancé—not so much.  As to where we can find her—there’s no way of knowing.  But she’s sent messages out to us, little observations of her betrothed’s habits, even peeking in his diary—this match is _not_ made in heaven.  She wanted to go to the convention, hoping to find Luigi there, but Spike has escorts in his employ to ‘keep her safe’.

            “Why do her parents want her to marry him when it’s obvious she doesn’t?”

            “For wealth and status, of course.  Her parents run a corporation, and if Spike marries into the family, he gains some of their stock.  Spike also aims to bring an heir into the world.”

            “So, he wants her money and her uterus.  Classic,” muttered Evelyn.  “I hope her parents see the light and help their little girl kick him to the curb.”

            “Fat chance,” said Daisy.

            “Thanks for telling me,” said Evelyn.  “I’ll be sure to pass it on to Luigi.  But I wonder, how come you didn’t tell him first?”

            “Don’t worry; you’ll figure that out,” replied Daisy.  “So, I hear that you have the hots for a certain private eye.  Is that true?”

            Evelyn blushed.  “How come you know so much about me?”

            “Evie, please.  You can’t hide anything like that from Luigi.  He’s good at noticing it.  Why else did he get our boy Roy and Meta Knight to confess their feelings to each other?  Who do you think set up that blind date between Rosalina and Corrine?”

            “I fell in love with Val a long time ago,” Evelyn confessed after a while.  “We were best friends and Luigi fans, wild and carefree, but I just never worked up the nerve to tell him.  And just as I did, bam.  He fell for someone else.  So—that explains the display you walked in on.”

            Daisy frowned.  “Who told you that?”

            “I heard the news straight from the horse’s mouth.  He finally found the perfect woman.”

            Daisy nudged Evelyn.  “I have some good news for you— _you’re_ ‘the perfect woman’!”

            “Impossible,” murmured Evelyn.  “He said…”

            “He was talking about _you_ , sweetheart!” announced Daisy.  “You know those dreams you’ve had lately—he’s having them, too!  And this was way before he met Luigi!  He just didn’t know how you’d respond, given his line of work.”

            “Wow,” breathed Evelyn.  “He loves me.  He really loves me.”

            “He was drawn not only by your beauty, but also by your quick wit and strong confidence.”

            “I was nervous to tell him because I thought it would seem like some stupid crush,” explained Evelyn.

            “It isn’t.  It’s very, very real.”

            “Well, then,” remarked Evelyn.  “I guess I’m glad I ran into you.”

            “So am I.  Treat your body however you like—I’m paying for it.”

            “You, too,” winked Evelyn.

            “Don’t procrastinate this time, okay?”  And with that final piece of advice, Daisy walked out of the sauna.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Just an hour into the convention, and it was already heating up—in more ways than one.  In the tournament pit, Mango, Leffen, Hungrybox, Armada, Mew2King and all of the other legends squared off.  When their mains weren’t signing autographs or interacting with the attendees, they were rooting them on.  Gamers who wanted more blasts from the past helped themselves to the copy of Smash 64, or more contemporary ones checked out Brawl and Smash 4.  The convention center was a sea of cosplayers posing for snapshots to post of social media, popular YouTubers boosting their channels, tourists checking out the scene and locals drinking in this vibrant sight.  Volunteers were on hand to keep order and man the many booths scattered throughout the event.  The representative Smashers kept their senses on high alert as they mingled with volunteers.  Any one of them could be scouts or spies under the employ of Spike.

            Val and the Pikachu suit-clad Paul used this event to their advantage, getting as much information as they could out of the attendees while at the same time enjoying themselves.  Val’s choice of costume made him among the popular guests, and he stood for photos as frequently as the Smashers.  He went toe-to-toe with LoF False in the tournament area, and though he lost, his skills won him the respect of the veteran gamer.  Paul spent most of his time in the Kids Area, with the face painting, obstacle courses and bouncy castles, reuniting with fellow Boy Scouts and sharing what they learned.  He also talked to and cuddled with Pikachu, talking about how awesome it would’ve been if Pichu had won the Smash Ballot.

            At the Fire Emblem table, Roy, Reflet and Lucina diligently handled all Marth and Ike-related questions, explaining that they ran afoul of a powerful enemy.  When attendees weren’t visiting him, the redhead sneaked looks at Meta Knight, translating whatever Kirby had to say and sidestepping attempts to get him to remove his mask.  The only people he’d reveal his face to were Kirby and the Red Lion.  Meta and Roy had gone on a few more dates since Valentine’s Day, and on the night before Luigi left, Roy had held the masked knight in his lap while playing with the tiny nub in between his legs.  Meta then put the miniature Sword of Seals into his mouth and took a Critical Hit down his throat.  In the aftermath, Meta caressed Roy’s body and whispered to him in Spanish.  They went one more round before falling asleep.

            Pit and Corrin exchanged flirty looks across tables and had booked a room at the Monte Carlo.  In fact, Pit was the reason why Corrin persuaded Master Hand to allow him to go.  They were going at it like rabbits almost every night—just the slightest physical contact made them sweat!  While Corrin was casting suggestive glances toward Pit, Corrine was on her phone, trading steamy texts with Rosalina.  She’d nearly devoured the Space Goddess when she saw her galaxy for the first time.  Both dragon twins were real dragons in the bedroom; Pit and Rosalina’s legs were jelly when their partners were through with them!

            Sitting at her table with Mario, Peach was over it!  His hand had been surreptitiously inside her skirt for the past forty-five minutes, and now he was stroking the moist seat of her panties, pausing only when someone came to talk to them.  That night in the shower had left little to their imaginations, and this was Vegas, so anything could happen with these two!  Anything could happen with the other couples scattered in this convention center!  Vegas was a wild and adventurous place, a first-time destination for many of the Smashers.  They planned to make the most of their stay by doing things they’d never dream of doing in the tournaments!

            The hours passed, the event growing ever crowded.  A man and a woman moved stealthily through the throng of people, the man wearing his usual hat and overalls, and the woman dressed as Midna from the Legend of Zelda series.  They kept their heads slightly ducked to avoid being noticed—until they found the people they were looking for.

            “What gives, Bro?  Attending this convention without inviting me?”

            Mario’s head snapped up.  “Bro!”

            “Hey, Mario.  Hey, Princess,” greeted Luigi.

            “Yeah.  Hi,” joined in Evelyn.

            After hugs were exchanged, Luigi asked, “Where are Paul and Val?”

            “They’re approaching right now,” said Mario.

            Evelyn turned as Val made his way over to the group, holding Paul’s hand.  She felt her heart beginning to flutter, seeing his eyes make contact with hers, a smile snaking onto his face.

            “This is quite a gathering,” mused Val when he reached them.

            “Tell me about it,” said Peach.

            “Hey, Eve,” said Luigi.  “Is there something you want to say to Val here?  Or do you want me to tell him?”

            “No, I’ve got it,” said Evelyn.  She cleared her throat and turned to Val.  “Look, Val, I have to tell you something, something I should’ve told you from day one.”

            “What’s that?” breathed Val.

            “I love you,” she said.  “I love you so much.  Now, I know this is out of the blue, but the years of our friendship have been the best of my life.”

            “Mine, too,” whispered Val.

            “I get that your job is dangerous, but the mission we’re currently underway in is twice as dangerous,” Evelyn went on.  “This is a big leap of faith, but—what do you say to going out with me?”

            “A big, fat, ‘Yes’, that’s what!” crowed Val, taking her in his arms.  “God help me, I love you, too!”

            “Yay!” cheered Peach as they kissed.  “They’re finally together!”

            The friends were joined by Christine, playing the role of Lucina with her blue wig, and her son, dressed as Morgan from the Fire Emblem series.

            “Am I missing anything?” she asked.

            “Not really,” Evelyn replied.

            They gathered at the table and began talking in low voices.  Evelyn told the party what she’d learned through Daisy, that Spike had a fiancée and the methods he used to win people over.  They agreed that getting Cerena on their side was the key to accomplishing anything else.

            “If she’s not on our side already,” surmised Christine.

            Four men wearing the Sarasaland emblem strode into the convention center, escorting Daisy, wearing a strapless dress suited for the desert weather.  She looked as radiant and as stunning as always, commanding authority and respect as a political leader.

            “Hi,” Luigi said to her.  “Glad you could make it.”

            “I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” said Daisy, kissing him on the mouth.

            “How’ve you been?” asked Peach.

            “Very well.  How about you?”

            “Just getting by,” replied Peach.

            “You just got in?” asked Mario.

            “I did.  I assume you all know what I know?”

            “Yes,” said Christine.  “How’d you find out?”

            “I have my ways, but I shouldn’t tell you in a public place,” said Daisy.  “You’ll never know who’s listening in.”

            As they spoke, one of the attendees noticed Luigi.  “Hey!  Look who’s here!” he called.

            The other Smashers perked up.

            “L!  Nice to see you!” called Lucina.

            “When are you coming home?” asked Ness.

            “Poyo!” squealed Kirby.

            Luigi went over to catch up with his fellow Smashers and update them on his situation.  “I promise I’ll be home as soon as I can,” he told them, “but this is something I have to do.”

            “Will you at least let us help?” queried Reflet.

            “Sure, I will.”

            After talking with them for a few minutes more, Luigi sat with Mario and Peach to sign autographs and answer questions.

            Later that afternoon, the emcee walked out onto the floor.  “Hello, Las Vegas!” he cried.  “How are you all doing this fine day?”

            “Good!”

            “I can’t hear you—how are you all doing this afternoon?”

            Everybody cheered.

            “Now, ladies and gentlemen, is the moment you’ve all come here for—the combo exhibition!”

            “Yeah!” hooted Christine.

            “These lovely Smashers will blow our minds with the most imaginative combos they can think of.  But before they do that, let’s put our hands together for this brave volunteer!”

            A man wearing protective gear and a helmet stepped out.  “Hi,” he said sheepishly.

            “All right.  Are you guys ready?”

            “Yeah!”

            “How about over here?  You guys ready?”

            “Whoo!”

            “And on this side—you guys ready!”

            “Yeah!!”

            “All right, then.  Gamers and cosplayers of all ages—let’s get ready to combooooooooooooooooo!!”

            Everyone started cheering wildly.

            Volunteers cleared a nice-sized area so that the Smashers could have freedom of movement.  The man in the protective gear stood in the clearing, psyching himself for the thrashing he was about to take.

            “Which of you wants to start us off?” asked the emcee.  “Hey, Mario folks!  You want to start us off?”

            The audience cheered again.

            “Hey, Luigi!  Wanna show us those rad combos of yours?”

            Hoots of agreement.

            “I’d love to, especially since you asked me so nicely,” smiled Luigi.

            “Knock them dead, L!” encouraged Daisy.

            Luigi stood, made his way to the exhibition area and greeted the man with a deceptive smile.

            “You might want to take it easy, pal,” said the man.

            “Only if you give me a reason to,” said Luigi.

            The emcee hushed everybody so that Luigi could better concentrate on his movements.  Sitting in the front with Peach, Mario, Christine, Val, Evelyn and Paul, it occurred to Daisy that she hadn’t really seen Luigi fight before.  She caught snippets of tournament matches on TV, but due to her royal duties, she rarely had the time to actually _see_ them.  Now, she’d finally get a good view of his Smashing prowess, of what made the other Smashers envy or look up to him.  Her heart raced just thinking about it.

            As for the man in the safety gear, he didn’t get any warning.  Luigi was upon him as soon as quiet settled over the convention center.  He had nerves at first, and who could blame him?  There he was, in one of the most popular tourist attractions in the world, showing off his most reliable combo attacks to a convention center full of people.  But it didn’t last long.  Soon, he was into his routine, starting off with his true combos which would elevate him from a disadvantage to an advantage.  His f-air and u-tilt had the property of chaining into themselves, and he could usually pull off a string of four-to-five karate chops or seven-to-eight up tilts.  His smashes, notably his breakdance sweep, put opponents in long enough hitstun to start a unique combo.  Then, there was the update patch last year which his fans and mains had dubbed “the Triple One Massacre”.  Some Smashers had complained to Master Hand about Luigi’s down throw and how broken it was.  Master had sent work to Sakurai, and he and his team had decreased the knockback scaling of the move, putting many of Luigi’s sacred combos out of commission.  But once the plumber recovered from the shock of the nerf, he’d found ways to work around it.  His old combos worked at lower percentages, and at higher percentages, he made up some new combos as he went along.  These new combos were now the center of attention for the convention attendees.

            Guests gasped, “oohed” and “aahed” and clapped softly as Luigi lunged further into his demonstration.  Mario nodded proudly.  Paul, along with Christine’s son, bounced happily in their seats.  Evelyn and Val held hands while they watched.  And Daisy—she was fixed on the sight of her man, deep in concentration, and look what concentration could do to _that_ face!  He was lit-up beautiful, brows animated as he focused harder and harder on the guy in front of him.  Daisy saw his tongue peek out and flick about his lips; she saw the power and intensity well up within him.  She shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she observed him moving so smoothly and gracefully, a short beat in between each hit.  He was getting breathless, and the sound of his exerted breathing was more than enough for Daisy.  Luigi hadn’t even got to the best part, and already she was wet.

            He steadily grew more worked up, remembering how some welcomed his nerf with open arms and tried to clip his wings, instead throwing gas onto his fire!  Well, nobody was talking trash now.  They probably got it through their heads that a nerf was a nerf, and that he’d always adapt, no matter what.  Sweat banded on his forehead and lathered up nicely on his cheeks, chin and neck.  He felt Daisy’s eyes on him.  He’d been so stressed lately, but it presently started to seep away.

            Especially when he moved on to the viable set-ups he’d engineered in his spare time.  They had to be some of the wildest viable combos anyone had ever seen.  Daisy was dripping and throbbing by now, trying in vain to calm herself down.  She dared not tear her eyes away from Luigi wearing down the protective padding, his eyes so starry bright and dramatic and dark at the same time; from his rounded mouth or his expressive face or from any part of him as he pushed himself past his windedness.  Look what she’d been missing all this time!

            Luigi’s lungs were practically hollering at him by the time he paused to get some breath back.  The audience let loose with the cheers they’d dutifully held in as the man in green smiled.  God, Daisy loved his smile!  The guy in the padding took the time to regroup from the demonstration, making sure that the padding had done its job and that nothing was busted or broken.  But Luigi wasn’t done with him yet.  Not even close.  Once he could breathe normally again, he launched right into his guaranteed-K.O. combos, the ones he pulled off at very high percentages.  This wasn’t a full repertoire, as Luigi’s own damage percentage could determine the strength and versatility of his combos.  But a full repertoire wasn’t needed; the audience could use their imaginations to visualize the rest.  The plumber pulled off combo after combo until his limbs and lungs could take no longer.  He took a bow and flashed his trademark “V” sign before vacating the area for the next demonstrator.

            “Wow, you were incredible!” Daisy told him when he sat back down.  “What’s your secret?”

            Luigi blushed.  “Just practicing.”

            And then they kissed.

   


	38. Bride for a Bully

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Intense, disturbing content ahead.

            “So, this is the one?” asked Luigi.

            Daisy nodded.  “That’s the chapel where Spike is going to make Cerena his bride.  What do you think?”

            “Well, I say that the theme is ironic,” mused Luigi, taking in the storybook setting.  “He wants to make it look like a happily ever after when it’s everything but.”

            “We’re going to crash a wedding?” Evelyn asked hopefully.

            “No,” said Daisy.  “We’re on a mission to stop this wedding from happening.”

            “How will we do that?” asked Val.

            “It’s no secret that Cere wants to break free,” said Daisy.

            “We’re going to give her the tools to do so,” added Luigi.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            The small plane flew high above the desert, approaching Hoover Dam.  Inside the craft sat a group of thrill-seeking sky-divers, five guys and one girl.  They were all clad in safety gear, helmets and goggles, parachutes nicely fastened to their backs.  Six pairs of eyes stared out the window, lips biting nervously at the sight of the earth shrunk to miniature size.  Then, one of the divers looked over at them, smiling an easy smile.  He told the other five that he was a veteran at this sort of thing when he met them at a water park.  After buying them lunch, he made small talk with them and suggested that they go on an adventure together.  They went to a skydiving service, where the other five had insisted they were novices at this sort of thing and requested an experienced professional to help them on the way down.  But using his silver tongue, the sixth talked them out of it, and reassured, they all had booked the regular package.

            Now, they were at the appropriate altitude.  The pilot sounded the call for them to get ready.  The confident one stood first, followed by his five new friends, who were chatting among themselves about taking selfies of their leap of faith and showing them to a certain green-clad plumber and his spunky Flower Princess.  The sixth pretended not to hear them, but he did, and within his calculated brain, he was crafting for them a high-altitude experience they’d never forget.

            As the six stood at the opened door, watching the world below slide by, the confident one sensed five stomachs beginning to drop.  He flashed a high-wattage smile at them once more.  “Jumping is the hardest part,” he said.  “The rest is cake.”

            The pilot nodded.  “Just find your happy place,” he added.

            At the pilot’s command, they leaped out of the plane one by one.  It felt like flying.  The air resistance was buoying them as gravity did its thing.  Whooping, screaming and laughing filled the stratosphere as the six skydivers joined hands and gazed down on the spherical shape of the troposphere.

            Terminal velocity was fast approaching, and it would be time to deploy the parachutes.  Since he was so experienced, the other five determined that the sixth would tell them when.

            “When” came soon enough.  The veteran skydiver shouted, “Now!”, prompting all to pull their cords, deploy their parachutes and float serenely to a safe landing.

            At least, that was what _should’ve_ happened.

            The “experienced” one’s parachute worked just fine.  The others, however, weren’t so lucky.

            As it turned out, the unfortunate five had faulty equipment—courtesy of their so-called “friend”.  So busy were they in their own little world that they didn’t see them tamper with their jumpsuits and gear.  He’d chuckled internally over how easy the whole thing had been, luring these unsuspecting Luigi fans to a death trap consisting of one of the things they loved most—skydiving.

            Frantically, the five yanked at their cords, but still, nothing happened.  The ground was rushing up to meet them.  They looked up to their “friend”, screaming to him, while he pretended to call for help.  In actuality, he pulled out his binoculars so he could better glimpse the dawning realization that nobody was coming to help them, that they had been set up and that only the ground was going to stop them.  He wanted to see their mouths open, screaming, as they desperately clung to each other in their last moments, one guy finally confessing his crush on the girl after all of these years.  Where they were going, they’d be together forever.  He wanted to see their eyes as all of their decision-making caught up with them.  If _only_ they hadn’t been habitual truants, if _only_ they hadn’t talked back to their parents and rolled their eyes at them while they tried to help them, if _only_ they hadn’t sneaked off one night and boarded that Greyhound bus to Las Vegas, if _only_ they hadn’t partied all night, if _only_ they hadn’t gone to that water park and make conversation with the seemingly nice man who shared their passion for thrill sports, if _only_ they’d paid more attention to their surroundings, if _only_ they had suggested something else to do.  If _only_ …

            Well, now it was too late.  And once their families received word on the “terrible, tragic accident” which had landed them an early appointment with the Grim Reaper, it would be theirs to bear for the rest of their life.  Shame on them, too, for being such bad parents.

            Spike closed his eyes, sighing happily as the screams, faces and eyes of the five flashed across his mind.  He alighted softly on the ground, where an attendant was waiting for him.  The bully handed the attendant a small video camera.  “Make sure this reaches our green-clad friend and his buddies,” he instructed.  “I want to make it clear that what happens in Vegas won’t always stay in Vegas.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Later, in his luxurious hotel suite, Spike and his betrothed, Cerena, were naked in the soft, king-sized bed.  Spike was atop her, licking and “tenderly” French-kissing her as he none-too-gently pushed himself into her entrance, and Cere was gasping, “Dear God!  _Why_ are you doing this?  Why?”

            Her interjections merely increased his excitement, and he began to thrust harder, drinking in the revulsion he saw in her eyes.  It never mattered whether she was comfortable or hurting, and it never would.  She’d be the perfect wife and the perfect mother of his perfect heir, continuing his legacy of putting Luigi fans in their place and making sure Daisy never got in Smash.  Not to mention the hefty slice of stock from her parents’ company and a fair share of her big bucks—as well as the important people his bride would introduce him to!  Sure, she wasn’t very wild about the idea, but it was for his benefit and her family’s benefit, not hers.  And if parents told their kids to do something, then the kids did it.

            As for the bride-to-be, wishing to the heavens above that she’d awaken from this nightmare, she knew that this would be nothing compared to when the man her parents insisted she marry discovered her secret life as a Luigi fan—among other things!

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

            Cerena Cydney Sparks was the youngest of two girls born to Charlie and Courtney Sparks in Henderson, Nevada.  Her older sister, Cypress Celeste Sparks, was three years older than her.  Cypress was “the golden child”, getting stellar grades in school, smoking the competition at spelling bees and science fairs and graduating _solo com laude_ from MIT Technical Institute before marrying an engineer, having a few kids and settling in Laughlin, Nevada.  But Cerena—she got good grades, too, participated in various sports, was generous and kind and showed a genuine interest in the wonderful corporate world, but she was just—different.  She was rarely praised for her accomplishments and shown the bare minimum of love and affection, all because she didn’t behave the way everyone in the family was supposed to.  Cerena was “the black sheep”, destined to tarnish the family name because she dared to question the way things were done, because she wanted to break free of the mold and because she was unafraid to speak her mind.  Her parents dragged her to psychiatrists to figure out what was “wrong” with her, to no avail.  Groundings, and—I’m sorry to say—more corporal punishments refused to deter her.  She became known as the family’s “cute little accident”, Charlie and Courtney secretly counting down the years until she turned 18 so she’d be out of their hair for good!

            Spike Plaxwell had been a close friend of the Sparks family for years.  The first time he met Cerena, she’d just taken her first steps and was still babbling in child-speak and wearing Pull-Ups.  He’d come to the house bearing presents for the girls and good tidings to the parents.  To Cerena, “Mr. Spike” was an angel who understood her plight of being the disappointing second child and the person she could vent to once she learned to speak.  He’d babysit her and Cypress when Mom and Dad had business to attend to, and he’d take them to amusement parks, water parks and Circus Circus in nearby Las Vegas.  He served as Cerena’s source of parental override, brokered truces between the two sisters and spoiled them rotten.  But he spoiled Cerena the most.

            Oh, how he spoiled her!  He fed her ice cream sundaes with extra chocolate sauce, gooey and soft chocolate chip cookies the size of her face with plentiful chocolate chunks, slices of cake as wide as his palm with layers and layers of frosting and filling about two inches thick, flaky buttermilk biscuits with jam or jelly smeared on thick, cupcakes the diameter of muffins with the icing piled on high, premium Ghirardelli chocolate bars and handmade ice cream shakes, including the extra in the tin.  He took her on bus tours round the strip, airplane rides over the Hoover Dam, to the M&M Factory, where she’d fill baggies upon baggies to the brim with the tiny chocolate candies which melted in the mouth and not in the hand, to all of the malls and the theme parks he knew—and still got her home before supper.  Lavishing her with the gifts her parents should’ve and the attention she craved, “Mr. Spike” was her secret treasure and her escape from a bleak family situation.

            The little girl had no way of knowing that her parents were conspiring to marry her off to him for the advancement of their five-generation hair care business.  With Spike in the family, they reasoned, their sales and their stock would skyrocket, given his power and popularity.

            Unfortunately for them, Cerena had no interest in marrying Spike just because he was just as wealthy.  She didn’t feel physically or romantically attracted to him in any way.  She didn’t feel any type of attraction to men, period.

            She was in fourth grade when she discovered that she preferred girls over boys.  On the first day of class, an eccentric girl named Melody Eckert had walked into the class to snickers from some of the students.  Cere had immediately offered Mel to sit next to her, and Mel agreed.  From that day forward, they were good friends, them against the world, shaking off the haters and learning each other’s secrets.  Often, Cere would spend the night at Mel’s house, or Mel would come over to stay at Cere’s place.  But as fourth grade became fifth grade and fifth grade became sixth grade, Cere found herself drawn to Mel in a whole new way.  Her plump lips, her olive skin, her curly dark hair and her green eyes—she looked so comfortable and free while Cere was bound by expectations.  One time, Mel had brought her flowers, and Cere had returned the favor with a bouquet of her favorite lollipops.  It was in the park when Cere had finally confessed what she was feeling toward Mel, and to her relief, Mel didn’t laugh at her.  She, in turn, confessed to harboring feelings for Cere, and that her confession had given her the strength to come out to her family.  Now, Cere’s folks were ultra-conservative, and she was already “deviant” enough—she couldn’t afford to tell them.  Mel understood and encouraged Cere to stand up for herself, and just because she was different didn’t mean she was an embarrassment.  Good old Melody Eckert, Cerena’s childhood crush and first love.  Though they eventually parted ways, they’d always remember the times they shared together.

            As sixth grade melted into seventh grade and the start of middle school, all of the boys began turning their heads when she walked by.  Oh, she’d started her—development—early, but younger boys didn’t notice as well as older ones.  Throughout middle and high school, Cere had to fight off invites to dates, to school dances and other advances, because she simply wasn’t interested in guys.  She had her heart set on the ladies.  Luckily for her, she wasn’t alone; some other high school girls were also “different” from the norm and started to catch on.  Her high school had designated safe spots for LGBT students, where Cere met many lovely girls.  Mel was her first kiss, but by tenth grade, they decided they were better off as friends and encouraged the other to move on.  Cere’s first real date was with a girl named Alessa, at a school dance.  Her complexion was slightly darker than Mel’s and the way she rolled her “r’s” was so divine.  They shared some kisses, dances, study sessions and classrooms, but Cere’s prom date was Lauren, the school nerd.  With Lauren, Cere felt the spark which was absent with Alessa and rivaled only by Mel.  Two days after the prom, when Charlie, Court and Cypress were out, Cerena had her first time with Lauren, and it was such a wonderful experience that she thought about it for weeks after, touching herself with the door closed to her nitpicky family with thoughts of the intelligent girl, the smell of her perfume and her wavy hair tickling her body and how their—Lauren had been so gentle with her, too.  She made out once with Mel and twice with Alessa, but she didn’t feel ready to take that step with either girls, and they never pushed.  She wished that other partners could be like that.

            It was during high school that she also discovered her affinity towards that mustachioed man in green.  They had so much in common.  He was an overshadowed younger brother to a celebrated hero, and she was the “embarrassing” baby sister to Cypress, the family’s pride and joy.  She’d heard of him while she was still in preschool, but after the turbulence of her life, he really started to grab her attention with the parallels of their experiences.  She hadn’t performed the extraordinary task of capturing ghosts and fighting the King of all Boos, but through all she was put through, she discovered who she was and continued to set herself apart from her bland family, no matter what.

            Too bad her parents didn’t share her sentiment.  They called him “the most selfish, ungrateful sibling they’d ever known in their entire lives”, sniffing that he should at least be happy with the heroic duties he was assigned.  According to Court and Charlie, Luigi was a clumsy and envious scaredy-cat who deserved to be kicked into the shadows—and remain in the shadows.  One day, Cere was fed up and had defended the green-clad plumber to her parents, even going so far as to accuse them of looking down on those “less” than or “different” from them.  To this day, she’d never forgiven them for taking her laptop away, flogging her and sending her to bed early, just for sticking up for her views.  She’d repeatedly threatened to call her grandparents all the way in Chicago to tell them about her “mean” parents since she was three, and she once threatened to run away and go live with “Mr. Spike” unless her parents changed their attitude toward her.  But “Mr. Spike” had his way with words and talked about how hard her parents worked to provide for her, and that they were trying to make her a better person.  He’d convince her to accept her punishments like a good girl and drop the threats to tattle to her grandparents or run away.  She’d later find out that these “talks” were a precursor of what was to come.

            But Cerena was nobody to let anyone, not even her parents, tell her who to like and who not to like.  So, under the guise of an extracurricular activity, she’d started her own underground Luigi fan club.  She was president, Mel was vice president (which made Alessa jealous, but she never had that problem with Lauren), a girl named Candi (who was dating Mel) was treasurer, a girl named Susan was secretary, the twins Connie and Ronnie were chairperson and co-chairperson, respectively and a girl named Lynne was the sergeant-at-arms.  For four years, this secret club flourished, well-hidden from the prying eyes and questions of their parents or other family members.  All new club members swore an oath to secrecy, and a Luigi fan could identify other Luigi fans by a green brooch worn over their left breast, engraved with the school symbol to pass as a reading and writing club.  They met in treehouses, at Starbucks, at Jamba Juice and in libraries and parks.  They did homework, studied for tests and helped each other on projects and essays as well as write fan letters, draw and paint pictures, play a few rounds of Smash and pass around bits of Luigi-related gossip.  They threw parties for a club member celebrating their birthday or when they aced a test.  They were waiting with ice cream with someone broke a club member’s heart or flunked a test.  They vented about family situations, teachers, school bullies, school jocks, school snobs—everything they diligently held in was let out in that underground fan club.  During Cere’s senior year, Lauren was brought in as a mediator and a public relations advisor.

            Life was good.

            And then, it all went to the flames.

            The high school’s resident mean girls just _had_ to snoop around and find out that the after-school club was in actuality a get-together for Luigi fans.  And they wasted no time blabbing to the girls’ parents, showing them the pictures they’d taken as proof.  To say that Charlie and Court were angry with their youngest child was a gross understatement.  After a disastrous date with a leather strap and a tub of saltwater, Cere was forced to break off all contact with the other girls.  From now on, she was to head straight home from school, was tasked with doing the brunt of the chores and couldn’t go out without permission.  Her cell phone activities became heavily monitored.  She was forever branded as “a disobedient ingrate”, as “a mistake” and as “the family’s little parasite, taking and taking and never giving back”.  She was constantly reminded of how she “betrayed the family” and “tainted their legacy”, and other things were said and done, too, things which would stay with her until her last breath in her physical body.  Both of Cypress’s graduation ceremonies had Sparks family representatives packed in from miles around.  But only an uncle and a sympathetic future brother-in-law showed up at Cere’s high school graduation.

            Cerena then enrolled in UNLV (Go, Rebels!) and majored in Business, with a minor in Behavioral Sciences.  During her four years in college, she roomed with a perky student named Chrysanthemum, who revealed that she was linked to Princess Daisy of Sarasaland.  So, Cere decided that once she got her Business degree, she’d hightail it out of Dodge and become a Sarasaland resident.  Maybe she’d score some face time with Luigi via his Flower Princess.

            As in high school, her college commencement was sparsely represented by her folks—just some uncles, aunts, cousins, nieces and nephews.  The only graduation present she received from her parents was the announcement that she was now engaged to Spike.  She didn’t even have a choice.

            Spike was a friend and confidante when Cere was little, but that was it.  She could never love him—or any man, for that matter.  In the back of her mind, she imagined how Spike would help provide for her and their children, how the family business would prosper and how he’d continue to be the man who dried her tears after a fight with her parents and spoiled her rotten.  Yes, he could be a loving, giving and caring father.  She might not be able to love him romantically, but she might be able to care for him as a friend and a co-parent.

            She even confessed this to him on a “date” arranged by Courtney.  “This is so out of the blue,” she said, “and I just got out of college.  I have a life envisioned for myself, and—I don’t think I’m ready for this type of thing.”

            And he’d taken her hand in his and kissed it, saying softly.  “Don’t worry, Cere.  We’ll find a way to make it work.  And who knows?  Maybe I’ll start to grow on you.”

            Cere was so convinced that she failed to notice the curious smirk playing on his lips…

            Boy, did she wind up with an egg on her face.  Shortly after their engagement became official, Spike began “casually” suggesting that she spend less time with some people and more time with those in his crowd.  He could see that she was uncomfortable around them and only pretended to care for the benefit of his image.  It wasn’t long before he was mapping out her day from sunup to sundown—when she’d wake up, when and what she’d eat, what she’d do, what she’d wear, who she’d be with, when she’d bathe, when and how she’d primp and when she’d go to bed.  He meticulously planned the date, time and place of the wedding, the wedding party, the ceremony, the reception and the honeymoon, down to the wardrobe.  During the honeymoon, she was going to get pregnant.  If she had a boy, then his name would by Cyril, and if she had a girl, her name would be Charlotte.  If she had twins, then he’d decide how they’d be handled.  Their child would carry on _his_ legacy, not hers, and he would be the one to dictate this child’s upbringing.  Oh, and just in case trouble was brewing, he assigned some of his most loyal people as her “bodyguards”, keeping tabs on who she interacted with, where she went, what she did and how she acted.  Each of them had a little red button they pushed at the first sign of funny business.  Through them, she got in touch with the people who were on his side and unraveled the mysteries of Sin City.  But the glitz came with a price.  It was her fiancé who chose her hairdresser, her makeup artist, her personal trainers and her pastimes.  He signed her up for a membership at his gym.  He put her to work as his unofficial second-in-command.  While he placed limits on how much money she spent, he’d be out and about buying all sorts of things with _her_ money.  And all the while, she’d wonder what had happened to the friendly “Mr. Spike” she’d once known, if an evil spell had been cast on him, turning him into this ugly creature.

            The answer was quite simple.  When Cere was a little girl, Spike’s personality had been a mere mask.  With this mask, he’d taken this poor little rich girl, played on all of her insecurities as the misunderstood baby of the bunch and drew her over to his side.  By the time he showed his true colors and his bride-to-be had fully realized what she’d fallen into, it was too late to escape.  She was stranded with a real-life Jekyll-and-Hyde.  And it was time to let Mr. Hyde come out and play.  Dr. Jekyll was dead—he was always dead; the shell of a man he wasn’t.  The look on her pretty face when she put two-and-two together had been worth the wait.

            And so all of those childhood memories, the memories of gobbling up extra sweets when her parents weren’t around, of screaming her lungs out on thrill rides and splashing down water slides and flume attractions, of getting her face painted and seeing her favorite girl bands in concert, of watching movies and crunching on popcorn with extra butter, of having her picture taken with Disney Princesses and superheroes and firemen and Smokey the Bear and sports team mascots, of seeing fireworks explode in the sky every Independence Day, of running to him after family quarrels and receiving his special brand of comfort and advice—all of those memories were slowly and painfully burned away.  Burned away and replaced with—what was it, anyway?  Endless commands and rules and prohibitions.  Now that she was living with a powerful figure of Las Vegas, she was going to conduct herself a certain way.  Her days of being free and seeking her own identity were over.

            Spike knew that Cerena was wild and free-spirited and fierce, but he’d take all of that and crush it into teeny tiny bits, just as he’d done with the others before her.  She’d learn how to abide by his standards and be taught how to do tricks.  He can still remember the first time she gave him an attitude—oh, how could he forget the nice “conversation” he’d had with her about the way to treat someone who treated her like gold back in the day?  Of course, he’d seemingly repented of his wicked actions with a tearful, well-rehearsed monologue about how sorry he was and that he’d never fly off the handle like that again—add in a bouquet of her favorite flowers and some chocolate chip pancakes, and she was putty in his hands.  She _had_ to come across as sweet and forgiving to her parents, too.  But she’d be Spike’s toughest project yet.

            She told him that she wasn’t and probably never would be attracted to him.  He replied that perhaps she could learn to love him.  Well, it appeared that she’d never learn.  So, he forced those feelings of attraction and pleasure upon her every night, using his knowledge of how a woman’s body worked.  He’d tell her how sweet and beautiful she was, and how this was going to make her feel good.  It didn’t, and it only served to stimulate him.  He turned her reluctance into weapons against her and made her suffer for it.  She’d fight like a mama bear defending her cubs and spit things which would even make a drill sergeant blush, but it was all an aphrodisiac to him.  He could do and say the tabooest things to her and get away with it, because who would suspect the kindly Spike Plaxwell to be a moustache-twirling villain?  Cerena was his little circus act now, and when he eventually “persuaded” her to say and do things a streetwalker would frown upon, he’d praise her like a ringmaster.  She always made sure to praise him to her family over the phone, well aware that he or his entourage was listening in via the monitors they’d planted all over their suite for “security”.  For the slightest infractions, he’d recreate the most severe of the punishments her parents had administered to her.  Then, he’d be all smiling and affectionate while entertaining guests and necking at the casinos, and she’d just smile and play the role of the girl who finally had it all.

            But Cerena owed Spike thanks—he’d finally given her the push to finally come out to her parents.  It was a day forever seared into her memory.  Court and Charlie had paid her a rare visit, and Cere had told them the usual about how wonderful Spike was to her.  Then, she’d asked them to stay a while, because she had something to confess to them.  The real reason why she didn’t feel love toward her fiancé was because she didn’t love men.  She loved women.  She was a lesbian, and she’d discovered this when she was still in grade school.  She asked her parents not to hate her and not to tell Spike and his friends yet, and to accept the fact that she’d be different from them.

            Cere had barely come out of that encounter alive.  In her parents’ eyes, she’d committed an unforgivable sin and truly defiled the family name.  No child of theirs was going to lay with one of the same gender!  After they’d punished her, they’d immediately broken the news to Spike, and there were no words to describe his reaction.  They wouldn’t have to worry about this for long.  He would make her learn to love a man.  He would see to it that his beautiful future bride was cured of this “disease”.

            It was supposed to be a weight off her shoulders, but instead, it turned the days into a fight for survival.

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            Spike and Cerena opened up a joined bank account, but behind his back, Cere had opened up an account for herself, under the name “Grace Grayson”.  This was her secret stash, and it was growing like Jack’s beanstalk.  So, when she was brainstorming ways to get out of this impending union, she facepalmed upon realizing the solution was staring her in the face.  Was she not a businesswoman-in-training?  Why else did she spend four years studying to obtain that business degree?  Did she not know the inner workings of how her family’s business worked?

            It was time for a certain “black sheep” to invest.

            Cerena was a creative mind.  When Spike was asleep or off messing around with other women (while he had conniptions when she so much as glanced at another man), she began work on a hair care product of her own, a nice leave-in product for both wet and dry hair.  Using both 1-Up and Bonus Fruit extracts, this product would “smell good and be good to the hair”.  A sympathetic bodyguard offered to be the first test subject (the product was unisex), and the trial was successful the first time.  Cere had done it!  She had etched her name into the family business!

            Because it was too risky to do it on her own, another worker at the company offered to sell and market it for her.  Cere accepted, took $3,000 from her secret account and invested it in her new product.  Her body began to tingle with the excitement and thrill of danger.  She’d made her stand, loud and clear, and nobody was going to make her change her mind!  If she failed, then she’d resort to a Plan B, a Plan C and continue all the way down the alphabet!

            And the fun was just beginning!  As it turned out, Cere had an attorney on retainer.  In cognito as a maid, this attorney helped Cere draw up documents which would legally bar Spike from accessing her cash, to ensure that he wouldn’t get a penny of her inheritance, and that he’d never lay his grubby little mitts on her share of the company stock!  She also had a will drawn up, dictating that in the event of her death, neither her philandering, no-good groom-to-be nor her lousy, homophobic excuses for parents would live off of her corpse like vultures.  Oh, no, they didn’t deserve a sliver of her estate.  In her ultimate act of defiance, half of her fortune would be donated to Luigi fan clubs across the world, and the other half would be used for continued funding of the Super Smash Brothers tournament.  If she had children, then they would receive the estate.  If not, then it would be given to the LGBT community to use at their own discretion.

            Cerena Cydney Sparks was no damsel in distress.  Her body might be trapped in a loveless engagement, but her mind would always be free!

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            About six months after Cerena created and invested in her new product, Luigi, Daisy and their new friends—as well as old ones—were ensconced in Las Vegas.  The old friends were at a Smash convention, where Luigi was kind enough to drop in and render the room speechless with his bedazzling combos.  The new friends were finding ways to breach Spike’s security web and get in touch with his reluctant fiancée.  Both old and new met up at casinos, restaurants, coffee shops, gift shops and pools, careful about their interactions in case the wrong people were out and about.  They discussed Luigi and what he’d been through, how they’d help him through this and get him back to Smash in one piece.  Then, the old ones started casing the perimeter, seeking to catch a glimpse of one of the men who bashed Daisy and Luigi so!  They’d report to Evelyn, Val, Christine, Paul or some trustworthy tourists and locals, who in turn reported to Luigi and Daisy.

            And then, one night, they finally got a lucky break.

            Luigi and Daisy, and all of their friends and allies entered their hotel suites to find a sample-sized bottle of a new hair-care product—Cerena’s new hair care product, destined to be the ticket out of her prison!  With the bottle was this note:

_To Whom It May Concern,_

_If you received this sample bottle and this note, then congratulations!  You have found the woman you’ve been looking for.  And you guessed it—I don’t want to be Mrs. Spike Plaxwell.  He used to be a really nice guy—but now he and his people are snarling after my millions like a pack of ravening wolves!  But alas, there are some things they don’t know about me which I’d like to tell you about.  In order to do that, I’ll have to leave_ our _hotel suite, which I’m forbidden from doing unless I’m in the company of my “security detail”.  So, let’s go on a scavenger hunt.  When you awake tomorrow, go to the Peppermill Restaurant and ask for the breakfast special—you will find something truly nourishing, and the hunt will progress from there.  Remember, this scavenger hunt will help you figure out my plan, and time is of the essence._

_Welcome to fabulous Las Vegas!_

_Sincerely,_

_Cerena Cydney Sparks_

_P.S. Get me out of here!_

            “Bet Spike didn’t count on his newest trophy fighting back,” smirked Daisy.

            “Not at all,” said Luigi.  “Just like in classic tragedy, a woman will be Spike’s downfall.  And I intend to be there for the final act.”

            “So do I,” Daisy sighed blissfully, knowing that the axe was poised above another of her enemies…

              


	39. Bread Crumb Trail

            Luigi sat in a booth at the Peppermill Restaurant, turning the letter over and over in his fingers.  He wondered where his friends were.  Spike could anticipate his arrival, and anyone sitting here could be on his payroll.  Luigi shook his head and smiled.  He was a Smasher!  He took on 100 Mii Fighters at the same time and was known to last the longest in Endless and Cruel Smash!  Still, Evelyn could be a big help with her golf club and other weapons, Val could use his fists, Daisy and Peach had their own thing, and the other Smashers—the good thing about them was that they stuck together, no matter what.

            For the umpteenth time, he surveyed the perimeter.  He was positioned so that he could see Spike and his entourage when they came in, but they couldn’t see him.  His plan was to shadow Spike and to get a good sense on how he’d spend his day.  That way, it would be easier to prevent injuries and deaths while laying a trap for him.

            The waitress came, refilled his mimosa, and whispered in his ear, “Your friends will be here in about 3 minutes.  Mr. Spike should be in about 5 minutes after them.”

            “Thanks,” Luigi whispered back.

            Once the waitress left, Luigi busied himself by re-reading the letter.

_Hello, L,_

_Nice to see you again.  You and I are not so different, you know.  Allow me to give you a brief synopsis of my life before I give you some instructions._

_My sister, Cypress, and I were born in Henderson, a short drive from here.  It was Cypress who got all of the attention and all of the credit.  It was Cypress who got the good stuff for her birthday.  Even when I helped her do chores, my parents praised her and barely spared me a second glance.  Cypress this, Cypress that—oh, look at Cypress, she’s going to be our little star.  But if I brought home a report card full of A’s or a wonderful English paper, all I got was—meh.  Maybe I’m over exaggerating.  Or not._

_Any-who, I wasn’t like everyone else in the family and was thus shunned for it.  They all said I was going to be a bad apple.  And I guess that was true.  I discovered I was a lesbian and got to meet tender, sweet and loving girls throughout middle school and high school.  Then, I fell in love with you (in a platonic sense, of course), but you just so happened to be on my parents’_ persona non grata _list because of your supposed jealousy, selfishness and ingratitude.  Heck, I was even punished for trying to stick up for you!  I thought I’d found happiness when I formed an underground fan club cleverly disguised as an extracurricular gathering.  My club was actually one of the first Luigi fan clubs to spring up in the gaming universe.  And you wouldn’t imagine how it ballooned in four years.  Alas, it didn’t last long.  The mean girls enjoyed making us miserable, and so they decided to infiltrate our ranks and then rat us out to our parents.  It served to be the final nail in the coffin for my folks—they barely attended my graduation._

_After I graduated from college, my parents had the lovely idea of marrying me off to our family friend, Spike.  Now, Spike was a nice guy when I was a kid.  He fed me sweets, took me out on adventures and allowed me to splurge on shopping sprees.  When my folks and I clashed, I ran to him to make it better.  He was like my guardian angel.  But as soon as his engagement ring was on my finger, the dream turned into a nightmare.  He dictated everything, from who I spent time with to what I wore and ate to when I woke up and went to bed.  The things he liked to do to me—and liked to make me do to him—I’d never felt so defiled in my life.  I won’t go into graphic details about what he does to me behind closed doors—I’ll let you figure that out for yourself.  Here’s the short version: I’m his plaything, his trophy, his incubator and his punching bag.  My parents had no qualms over disciplining me when I was growing up—and neither does he._

_What else?  Oh, I made the foolish mistake of coming out to my folks not too long ago.  I hoped it would help them understand why I didn’t want to marry Spike.  But it’s not about me.  It was never about me—it was always about the family reputation and their business.  But I’ll show them.  They’re not getting a penny of my money when I leave this Earth, and there’s no way that Spike is getting mixed up in the company.  I’ve dictated that my money will continue to fund the Smash tournaments and also support the other Luigi fan clubs out there.  I’ll probably amend it so that a hefty portion goes to Sarasaland’s charity, too._

_Now, let me tell you about my plan.  The reason I created and invested in my leave-in hair care product was to get in some dough.  Once I have enough, I’m going to make my great escape.  But before that, I’m going to ruin Spike the way he’s trying to ruin me.  Not only am I going to lock him out of the company, but also, if things don’t go the way I want them to with my investment, I’m going to have him arrested on our wedding day for all of the crimes he’s committed.  Oh, and did I tell you the way he spends my money while imposing spending limits on me?  I’ve already initiated a way to put a stop to that._

_When my brother-in-law told me about your arrival, I immediately knew another way to hit my fiancé where it hurts.  Lead you to him, of course!  Attached is an itinerary of his day.  I would like you to visit the places listed.  Be sure to arrive at least fifteen minutes before us.  At each destination, someone in a green cap will be waiting for you.  Ask the person for “today’s featured discount”, and you will receive more letters like this one.  I have floor plans, layouts and the who’s who of Vegas so you can distinguish allies from enemies.  But be warned—there are corrupt cops on the prowl, especially at night.  I learned the hard way when I tried to file a police report about what Spike was doing to me._

_Spike and I will be here soon for breakfast.  We will be at the table across from you and slightly to your right.  Do not make eye contact.  All you have to do is listen.  The same applies when you follow us to our other destinations._

_One last thing—I arranged for Spike’s diary to be photocopied.  It should arrive at your hotel suite in an unmarked white envelope.  Read it thoroughly._

_Good luck._

_Cerena_

_P.S. My brother-in-law’s name is Zack._

            By the time Luigi was done reading, Daisy, Evelyn, Val, Paul, Christine, and her son, Todd, had arrived.

            “Morning,” he greeted them as they sat at the table.

            “Hi, L,” said Daisy, kissing Luigi.

            “Sorry we’re late,” said Val.  “You won’t believe the traffic here.”

            “When are they coming?” asked Christine.

            “About five minutes,” replied Luigi.  He smiled as the waitress arrived with mimosa for the new arrivals.

            “Enough time to decide what we’re going to eat,” said Evelyn as they all browsed their menus.

            Once the waitress had taken their orders, the door opened, and a small phalanx of tuxedo-clad men stepped smartly into the restaurant.  In the center walked a young man with sharp facial features and a young woman with cinnamon-colored hair.  Luigi sneaked a sidelong glance at them before dutifully averting his eyes.  Though Spike couldn’t see them, it would be risky to make conversation about him.

            Even using his ears, Luigi got an in-depth look at how things were between the engaged couple.  Cerena was seated in the middle of the booth, sandwiched between Spike and their “security detail”.  Her eyes were to be only on her menu and later only on her food, and she was to be seen and not heard unless she was asked a question.  Both her drink and her food were ordered for her.  Heck, she wouldn’t be surprised if he decided to cut it up and feed it to her like a baby.

            But she skillfully hid her contempt behind a broad smile and posed for some selfies with Spike, which he’d post on _their_ social media pages.  But Cerena had numerous social media pages, all of them under assumed names, in which she aired her true feelings.  She didn’t bring up Spike directly, of course.  These pages were in different languages as well.  Spanish, French, Portuguese, Tagalog, Mandarin, Polish—even Afrikaans.  She had a lot of multilingual friends on her side, and she was grateful for that.

            As Spike ordered her some pancake dish that didn’t even look good to her, she smiled inside, knowing that Luigi and his friends were just a few tables away, and that it was almost over.

            Speaking of which, the food had already arrived for Luigi’s table.  Omelets, chocolate chip pancakes, French toast and other breakfast goodies.  They kept their eyes on each other and their voices low as they made small talk about Vegas’s many attraction, but in actuality, they were listening in on the conversation between Spike and his pals.  They learned that Koopa was arriving later in the afternoon, and someone was going to be sent to McCarran Airport to pick him up.  Christine volunteered to find out which plane Koopa would arrive and at the time it was expected to arrive.  They also learned the fate of the five Luigi fans and silently cursed themselves for not arriving soon enough to save them, much less revive them with a 1UP Mushroom.  They learned all of the parties Spike had planned, when he’d receive his next shipment of purloined goods and that Spike knew they were here.  Caution and stealth were key.

            “Any word yet on that traitorous Legendary?” asked Spike.

            “No, sir,” said one bodyguard, “but the rumor is that he’s fled all the way to the Kalos Pokémon League.  We’ll never be able to find him now.”

            “Never say never, my friend,” grinned Spike.  “He’ll get comfortable and drop his guard in no time flat.  Plus, two friends of mine, Galleom and Duon, are doing what they can to smoke him out.”

            “We’ve received the hors d’eurves for the wedding,” said another bodyguard.  “The decorations are almost done.  And the cake should be here tomorrow.”

            “Chocolate peanut butter, right?”

            “Right.”

            “What about the clothes?”

            “The tailor has done a fine job, so far—not that he has a choice.”

            “Good.  Very good.  Everything is going according to plan.  My only worry is our secret operation regarding the Luigi fans.  Are you sure nobody’s catching on yet?”

            “Oh, no.  As far as everyone else is concerned, they’ve disappeared from the radar.”

            “Be advised, sir,” said the third.  “There is an air of uprising among our little collection.  All of us here can feel it.”

            “Is that so?” asked Spike.

            “Yes, sir.”

            “Then I suppose we should put those flames out.  We don’t want any potential wedding crashers, do we?”

            “Of course, sir.”

            Luigi exchanged glances with his tablemates.  According to Evan and Mandy, the Pianta chief _did_ say something about bringing unsuspecting supporters of him and Daisy to Spike.  He needed to pinpoint where Spike was keeping them before it was too late.

            His table continued to eavesdrop on Spike’s table as the latter’s food finally arrived.  Cerena made sure to carefully level each forkful of pancakes and eggs into her mouth and chew as silently as she could with her lips tightly closed.  Her eyes, as instructed, were on her breakfast.  But her ears, however, were picking up key morsels of the men’s conversation so she could pass it on to Luigi and his friends.  She just so happened to know where her fiancé’s other “guests” were housed, and she was in the middle of composing a route to get there.  Then, Zach would deliver it to her new friends.  Both could only pray that they’d finish in time.

            “I’m going to go freshen up,” Spike announced once he was finished with his meal.  He leaned into Cere’s ear and added.  “Your plate will be clean when I get back.”  Then, he smiled sweetly at her and went to the bathroom.

            Luigi signaled the waitress.  “Check, please.”

            The waitress dropped off Spike’s check, as well.

            Once everything was paid for, Luigi and his friends slipped out of the restaurant before Spike’s entourage could see them.  They were on their way to Spike’s next destination.

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            They were at the Wynn, one of the newest casinos on the Strip, after dropping Paul and Todd off at Daisy’s room with a few of her attendants.  As Cere had said, someone in a green ball-cap was waiting for them with some papers.

            “Read the letter only,” he instructed.  “Read the rest in your hotel suite.”

            “And your name, sir?” asked Evelyn.

            “Zack,” smiled the man.  “Zack Maxport, at your service.”

            “Zach,” murmured Luigi.

            “I’m Cere’s brother-in-law,” Zach told them before darting into the crowd.

            “Let’s see what this note says,” said Daisy.

_Good morning, Luigi, Daisy and friends,_

_I hope you enjoyed your breakfast.  So now, I guess you’ve made the acquaintance of my loyal brother-in-law.  Why he fell in love with and married Cypress, I’ll never know.  But he knows what I’m going through.  He attended both of my graduations.  He mains Mario in Smash.  He doesn’t hate me because I’m different from my family.  Because he’s a little different, too._

_Zach has been my partner-in-crime ever since day one of my engagement.  He knew something was fishy with Spike; I just wish I noticed before it was too late.  After the first time that man laid his hands on me, I had to dissuade Zach from mauling my fiancé.  I wish he was my blood sibling instead of Cypress.  It’s a cruel wish, I know, but it’s the truth.  Zach has also helped me to reach out to other Luigi groups, the honest police and even Smash itself.  Spike doesn’t suspect a thing, so he’s received an invitation to our wedding._

_Look at the card I have enclosed in this letter.  That’s the card for the wedding planning service arranging our nuptials.  I suppose you already cased the chapel where the ceremony is going to be held.  Revisit the chapel in two days.  Decorations will be complete at that time, and a guest list and seating chart will be sent to you._

_Go to one of the card tables and sit there.  We will be four tables over, where you can hear us, but not see us.  Try not to be too conspicuous._

_And yes, the floor plans along with this letter are enticing to read, but do follow Zach’s instructions and wait for the privacy of your hotel suite._

_See you soon._

_C_

            “How does she do this without being caught?” asked Daisy.

            “However she does it, it’s helping us,” Val put in.  “C’mon, let’s get situated.”

            Everyone in the group knew to some extent the way poker was played, so that wasn’t an issue with them.  But the issue was in how they’d be seated to remain inconspicuous.  Luigi’s hat had become such a staple that it could make anyone stand out anywhere.  Eventually, they arranged it so that Val’s muscular frame blotted out all view of his friend while still allowing him to see what was in front of him.

            They played a few rounds of poker, sipping on the drinks brought to them by the cocktail waitress, and were into their fifth round when Luigi noticed Spike and his crew stride in and settle in, as Cere had said, four tables from them.

            “It’s a public place, so it’s likely he’ll watch what he’s talking about,” he whispered to his pals.

            All of Spike’s entourage was soon embroiled in a blackjack game.  He even controlled the hand Cere was dealt, and if she won, the earnings went to him.  Even her chips were at his spot at the table.  If she was “good”, he’d give her a fraction of her earnings back and count it as part of her spending limit for the day.  But that was only when he was in a generous mood.

            Luigi could see right away that gambling wasn’t Cere’s thing.  She could play some decent cards, but she really wasn’t into it.  But what she was into and wasn’t into no longer mattered.  She was in Spike world now, and she was going to be into things _he_ was into.  Of course, he’d ordered her drink for her, and she was only to look at her cards or at the middle of the table.  She couldn’t even look at or speak to the dealer.  Her drink burned on its way down her gullet, but it was either the alcohol before her or nothing at all.  And if the glass wasn’t empty by the time they left, then there would be trouble.

            Despite the public setting, Luigi managed to catch a few vital whispers among Spike’s group.  Like the “surprise” they wanted to spring on him.  More news of Koopa’s jet.  Details on smuggling imports and exports.  The wedding.  The “secret operation” which was most likely plans for unsuspecting “enemies”.  Luckily, Val had started sending anonymous warnings via social media to Luigi fan groups in the area, telling them to stay vigilant and refrain from going out at night or talking to anyone bearing Spike’s description.  He saw Luigi surreptitiously jotting down notes each time a snippet of Spike’s conversation caught his attention.

            “I’ll probably head over to the airport at around noon,” Christine whispered to them.  “I’ll tell you which plane he’s getting out of and the hotel he’s staying at.”

            Luigi beamed at her.  “Well done,” he said.  “I should point out though, Mario and I have an understanding with the popular travel destinations.  Whenever Koopa travels outside the Mushroom Kingdom, we have all of the hotels he’s staying at key us just in case something happens.”

            “The keys are sent straight to you?” asked Evelyn.  “Just like that?”

            “Yep,” nodded Luigi.

            “If only we can get them to key us Spike’s room,” sighed Daisy.

            “Don’t fret,” Luigi assured her.  “We’ll get access soon enough.”

            They stayed there for about three hours, listening, learning and playing more card games.  Luigi was the table leader, cashing out with the most winnings when it was time to leave.

            “How are you so good at that stuff?” gasped Daisy.

            “Remember the _Super Mario 64_ remake?” asked Luigi.  “I learned how to play cards there.”

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_L, my man,_

_Inside this envelope are enough room keys for everyone in your party and anyone else who wants to help.  These keys go to our—yes, our—luxurious penthouse suite at Caesar’s Palace.  It is located at the Palace Tower, on the topmost floor.  This room is extremely big, which means you’ll have a lot of area to comb over, so plan early.  Instead of following us to dinner, I would suggest using that time to check things out.  Make sure you’re out of there by a quarter to midnight.  And whatever you do—don’t touch anything!_

_C_

            “Wow, as if he can’t get any posher,” murmured Luigi as he and his company sat at the club Spike regularly attended, having bribed the doorperson to let them in as one-time guests.

            “Anything to keep up his appearance,” said Val.

            “I just called a friend who works at the airport,” said Christine.  “She’s a flight attendant on Koopa’s plane.  They’re landing in ninety minutes, so I’ll probably check that out after this.”

            “Thanks, Chris,” said Daisy.

            The club president entered, causing quiet to settle over the meeting place.  “This meeting will now come to order,” he said.  “I’d like to start off by introducing two new members of the club.  Would you please kindly welcome Alice and Lucien Best?”

            “Actually,” said Alice, a blonde with a figure resembling a certain Princess, “we were recommended by our new friend, Spike.”

            “That’s right,” said Spike.  “I met them on my way out of one of the casinos.  They seemed like nice people, so I invited them to join this wonderful club.”

            “And we thank you for that, Spike,” chimed in “Lucien”.

            “Come,” Spike said to them.  “Sit over here, and meet my friends and lovely fiancée.”

            The couple was quite eager to do so.

            Spike was an open book until “Alice” and “Lucien” started getting too chatty with Cerena.  Of course, he made sure to shape her answers or provide them for her.  But their interactions were starting to make his fiancée a little confident, and that was the last thing he wanted.  He couldn’t let her think she could get away with breaking the rules just because they were in public, would he?  So, in his faux-polite way, he ended the conversation with the couple and made sure they were back in their own seats inside of two minutes.

            If only he knew that the Bests weren’t who they said they were…

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_Good afternoon!_

_If you are reading this, then you have successfully followed us through the morning.  Reward yourself with a bite to eat at Hash-House A Go-Go, where we’ll also be having lunch.  Next stop: our fitness club!_

_Also, it is likely that some of your friends have stopped by undercover to get a closer look at us.  I appreciate that, but try to keep this at a minimum, K?  You should’ve seen Spike as soon as Mr. and Mrs. Best (I’ll pretend those are their real names) started making converse with me.  Wait till he finds out who they really were and why they were at the club._

_You have a lot of patience; do you know that?  Sitting in that boring club meeting just so you can shadow our enemy (don’t let that sparkly diamond on my finger fool you; I hate him just as much), risking losses at the cards table and following my bread crumbs to find the way home.  Don’t worry; it’s just for today only.  Once Spike’s day is done, you’re free to do as you please.  I’m not one to believe in all work and no play, you know.  Unfortunately, I’ll never be free to do as I please as long as I’m betrothed to this man._

_Do you know how often he spends my money?  Or what he spends it on?  Well, soon he won’t have that benefit from me.  Not only am I working with my bank to drastically reduce his access, I’m also slipping a secret clause into our prenuptial agreement which stipulates that I will be the only one handling my money.  So, if he wants things that badly, then he’s going to have to spend his own!_

_Room keys for Spike’s room have just been delivered to your hotel suites.  You will find them on your beds.  And I have instructed the staff of all hotels, both on and off the Strip, to key you all whenever Spike makes himself at home.  Happy hunting!_

_Remember, wait till we’re at dinner to begin your search.  You will be surprised at what you find._

_C_

_P.S. Don’t touch my stuff—however little it may be._

            “Can’t you believe the size of this food?” asked Luigi as he stared at his “lunch” sandwich.

            “I can only imagine what the dinner portions look like,” agreed Val, eating a spoonful of potato salad.

            “No way I’m eating all of this in one sitting,” murmured Daisy.

            Evelyn just took a big bite out of her sandwich.

            Val’s phone buzzed.

            “Hello?” he answered.

            “Hey, Val!  What are these room keys for?” Paul asked excitedly.

            “They’re—for a top secret mission later,” explained Val, mindful of who was listening in.

            “Can I come?”

            “ _May_ I,” corrected Val.

            “May I please come along for the top secret mission?”

            “Hmm.  I’ll think about it, since you asked me so nicely,” smiled Val.  “Behave yourself, and be nice to Todd.”

            “Okay.”

            They said their goodbyes and hung up.

            “I swear, you could be that kid’s father,” chuckled Evelyn.  “Speaking of which, do his parents know?”

            “Sort of,” shrugged Val.  “He told them that he wanted to help out a friend and, you know, stowed away.  And I decided, heck with it, I could use his assistance.”

            “We’re happy you brought him along,” smiled Luigi.

            Spike and company arrived then and seated themselves at a big booth, Cerena at her usual place next to him, her drink and her lunch ordered by him, seen and not heard.  Left out of the conversations, to play the part of an eager bride-to-be.  To eat every bite of a sandwich she didn’t even like with a smile on her face, plus the soup preceding it.  After all, didn’t he pay to get her in this restaurant and order her this lovely food?  The plate was to be left spotless, not even a crumb should remain.  And as Spike and the men discussed this and that, she thought about the man in green, seated with his company, determined to put a stop to this evil man, a man she once trusted and confided her secrets to.  Maybe he spilled to her parents already!  There was no telling what he could do now!

            Mercifully, the lunch was finished, and it was time to leave.  At least Spike was giving her the privilege of exercising at the gym he went to.

            Once their car sped off, Luigi and company departed, too.

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_Dear Daisy and voluptuous blonde chick,_

_This question is for the ladies._

_Have you ever had ice cubes inside of you?  I mean, a baggie of actual ice cubes shoved inside of you?  I have, more times than I can count.  It’s one of his “experiments”, you see.  Spike’s libido is the most untamable ever known in history.  He’s one of the most insatiable people I’ve ever met.  I think he enjoys punishing me for my—preferences.  The things he does and makes me do in the bedroom make me feel disgusted.  Did I mention how he likes to force unwanted feelings of pleasure on me?  Well, he does.  Not only that, he waits until the critical moment and then takes that baggie of ice cubes and puts it deep inside me.  And when I sneak into the shower to try and wash him off of me, he creeps up behind me and takes me there!  I told you about my parents’ saltwater baths after a thrashing, passed on to Spike and his men.  But they didn’t just adopt the saltwater baths.  They came up with the idea of scalding hot baths or turning the temperature all the way up in the shower.  One of Spike’s preludes is a monologue about how weak and feeble Luigi and his fans are compared to him, how inevitable their defeat is and how they’d soon be at his mercy.  “Think of the power I’ll hold over them, Cere!” he’d say.  “Think of the respect I’ll garner when everyone hears about me!  With my influence, your family business will never go bankrupt, and I can see to it that our children and grandchildren and all generations after will want for nothing.  Now I’m certain that this marriage is meant to be.  It’s our destiny.”_

_After discussing his plans with me, he’d get quite—excited—and I’ll just leave it at that.  In my dreams are images of his empire falling into ruin, of my bossy older sister and my inconsiderate, homophobic and prejudiced parents having everything, including their precious little company, taken from them and given all to me.  Well, not all to me.  I’ll happily share with those in need, those who are kind, compassionate and tolerant, unlike Spike and my family._

_Well, that’s all I’ve got to say for now.  I hope you’ve pieced my plan together.  At the sports club, you’ll get a short note from me, and that will be the last you hear of me for the day.  Once we leave the sports club, head straight to our room for a thorough search.  And always keep an eye out for danger._

_C_

            “Poor girl,” Daisy sighed woefully.

            They were all in gym attire, having followed Spike and his crew to his fitness club.

            “All right,” Luigi told them.  “Let’s split up.  We’re in public, but we don’t want any of his friends seeing us together.”

            “Right,” nodded Evelyn.

            “We’ll meet back here when I give the signal,” said Luigi, and with that, they went to work out.

            Val made himself comfortable at the weight-training area, bench-pressing a few pounds to warm up and then working with the dumbbell.  He wore a gray muscle shirt and black shorts, his shoulders and arms attracting envious stares from the other guys.  Next, he found a kettlebell and a medicine ball to train his abs, and then he went to try out the various weight machines scattered around the gym.

            Evelyn found herself in a step aerobics class, taught by a special guest—the Wii Fit Trainer!  She’d taken advantage of the Smash convention to pursue her passion of fitness and whip Vegas’s populace into shape.  Evelyn had to admit, the lady knew what she was doing!  By the end of the fifty-minute class, her legs were sore, and she was sweating.  But she felt—a strange sense of achievement and energy.  Like she’d tasted something and decided that she liked it.  She was going to be friends with this Wii Fit Trainer!

            Daisy hit one of the Arc Trainers in the cardio area, earbuds in, music roaring through her.  And it was there, as she pumped her legs and sometimes her arms, strengthened her upper body and her glutes, that she glimpsed the woman she hoped to meet face-to-face.  It was Cerena, mounted on a stationary bike, a man standing on either side of her.  Her eyes were fixed on the machine’s display, her hair was pulled back in a long ponytail, and her shoulders bobbed with her movements.  Daisy guessed that the two men were her “bodyguards”.  Cerena was dressed in a hot pink sports bra and bright pink gym shorts, white shoes on her feet.  The Flower Princess’s gaze on her lasted but a second; she reverted her attention back to her own machine before she could be noticed.

            As for Cerena, she was there because Spike was there and wore this gym attire because it was laid out for her.  He dictated which machines she would use, how long she’d use them, which sports beverage she’d hydrate with and which group classes (if any at all) she’d attend.  She was aware of his eyes on her as she pedaled away, and was surprised that he’d even allow her to work out.  But if she was going to have his children, then she needed to be in peak physical condition, yes?  Besides, being fit would make her more appealing when they went to bed, too.

            Finally, Luigi was turning heads at a Zumba class.  Even the instructor was awed!  Man, the ways his body could move!  But Luigi had done this for quite a long time.  From the nightclubs of his home world to the Smash lounge in all four tournaments and even his hotel suite that first night with the curtains drawn and his doors locked, this man in green could cut rugs cleanly.  He’d start off timid and awkward until the music swept him up, at which point the dipping, shimmying, winding and undulating would begin, eyes closed, smiling and sweating, his body releasing all sorts of toxins.  In spite of the tournaments, dancing would remain his primary release, the best window to what he was feeling at the moment.  Those outside the studio peeped their heads in to look.  And when the class was over, the instructor offered to keep the music going for him until he had to vacate for the next class.  Heartily, Luigi accepted, breaking down his body until his eyes flew to the clock and saw that the time agreed on was fast approaching.  He danced his way through the last of the song, switched off the music, thanked the instructor and then signaled to his friends, who quickly dropped what they were doing and exited the gym with him.

            “I sneaked a look at Cerena,” whispered Daisy.  “She doesn’t look all that bad, considering.”

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            The Southwest Airlines jet was making its final approach to McCarran Airport.  Koopa was lucky enough to get _this_ plane without being recognized.  He sat in coach, braving squealing kids who apparently had never been on a plane before, snoring seat mates and people loudly snacking on peanuts.  With each elapsing minute, his heart pounded faster.  Was he going to make it safely?

            He almost cried when the pilot announced the final approach and gave instructions to put seats upright and tuck trays back in.  The FASTEN SEAT BELTS sign lit up.  Good.  The Vegas skyline slid by his window as the jet neared the runway.  And then the plane touched down in a relatively smooth landing, save for some bumps.  Koopa saw a young kid throw up during the landing.

            The jet came to a stop and connected to the landing dock.  Everyone gathered their things and disembarked.  Koopa was in such a hurry that he didn’t notice the woman speaking on her cell phone, giving her friends the big news.

            “He’s here.”

            Also exiting the plane was a recently married couple, holding hands and looking disheveled.  They were still in the honeymoon phase and had been going at it for the majority of the trip.  Their legs wobbled slightly, and not just for being in a plane for such a long time.  They’d flown to Vegas from Isle Delfino and had booked a sleeping cabin for the trip.  The jet had stopped at Bakersfield to refuel and take on its final load of passengers, including Koopa.  Somehow, the couple knew this, along with the fact that he wanted to meet up with Spike in Vegas.

            “Who’s she?” asked Mandy as her eye fell on the woman on the phone.

            “That’s Christine.  Luigi told me about her.  She was here for the Smash convention with her son,” explained Evan.

            “Too bad we missed it,” sighed Mandy.

            “Don’t worry; there’s always next time,” Evan assured her.  “Right now, though, we need to meet up with the L and his pals.  They’re gonna need all the help they can get.”

            “Once we get situated, of course,” winked Mandy.

            They checked into a suite at Bally’s and dropped off their luggage before going to find their green-clad friend.

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            Meanwhile, Luigi, Val, Evelyn, Daisy and Paul were combing over Spike’s hotel suite.  They’d been met with some resistance; Spike had posted some “sentries” outside his door.  Paul had tried to woo them with spiked Boy Scout cookies, and when that didn’t work, the five met force with force.  The guards found themselves stripped to their boxer briefs and locked in the closet, helpless, forced to listen as their boss’s privacy was invaded.

            At first, the search yielded nothing important.  They came across a lot of expensive things, like jewelry, cologne, designer suits, swimwear, sundries and toiletries.  There were a lot of adult toys, and they discovered that Spike was an avid BSDM fan (which made them all shudder, even Paul, who had no idea what those funny-looking objects were).  They saw the “gifts” for Cerena, the negligee she had to wear to bed (at least, what was left of it) and her secret diary, which gave them a better understanding of the struggles she faced, how she was getting by, and how she’d get her revenge.  There were a lot of arrangements for the upcoming wedding, details on the wardrobe, the procession and all that good stuff.  And there were invoices regarding the imports and exports of the smuggled goods from different worlds.

            But then, certain items started jumping out at them.  Pieces of paper containing coded messages.  Mysterious photographs of men, women and children.  DVDs.  Reservation confirmations for different hotels.  And most puzzling of all—a bunch of room keys.

            “Why does he need all of these room keys?” asked Daisy.  “And how come they’re from different hotels?”

            “I don’t know, but something tells me it’s not good,” said Val, as he and Evelyn planted monitoring devices of their own in the room.

            “Did you get permission for that?” asked Luigi. “I don’t want to get into trouble for illegal wiretapping.”

            “I called my superiors at the LAPD, and they gave me the green light,” Val assured him.

            “We should get Samus and Falcon to decipher these messages,” said Luigi.  “Unless the decipher is somewhere in here.”

            Daisy pulled the Smash 4 game guide out of a drawer.  “You mean this?” she asked.

            Luigi nodded.  “Good going, Princess.  Luckily I have a copy in my room.”

            “Who are these people?” asked Paul, indicating the photographs.  “Luigi fans?”

            “Perhaps,” Evelyn told him.

            “Hey, take a look at this!” called Luigi, holding up the room keys.

            Each key had a name on it, a name which corresponded to the names on the photographs.

            “I think I have a clue where those fans are being held,” Luigi went on.  “Different resorts on the Strip.  Forced to do his dirty work by day, and God-knows-what by night.”

            “How do you know that last part?” Evelyn wanted to know.

            “Why else does he need these keys?  To keep an eye on them.  I won’t be surprised if he’s doing to them what he’s doing to his fiancée.  And why do you think he has so many spies?  Surely, not all of them went willingly into this job.”

            “Impressive reasoning, Luigi,” smiled Val.  “Now we know that he’s keeping these people in plain sight.  But since we have no idea of their room numbers, how are we going to get them out without arousing suspicion?”

            “I’m sure our inside woman, Cerena, will find a way to help us,” hoped Daisy.  “I admire her for her bravery.”

            “Or perhaps our friends in the closet will tell us,” added Luigi.  “Evelyn, Paul, _Princesa_ , why don’t you three go back to your rooms and relax?  You probably don’t want to see this.”

            Daisy beamed.  “Thanks.”

            Val escorted the three out while Luigi went to confront the guards in the closet.

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            It was late at night.  Cerena lay by herself in the bed she shared with Spike.  He was off fooling around with other women, but at least she could get some peace and quiet.  Luckily, Luigi and his pals remembered to put things back where they found it before they left, but they decided to take the two guards with them, probably to suss out information.  Spike was significantly shaken up upon seeing the clothing of two of his best men.  If they behaved, then perhaps Luigi would let them go.  But Cerena highly doubted it.  It would be two less people she had to worry about interfering with her plan.

She’d checked her investments and was pleased to see how it had mushroomed.  She was so happy that her product was a huge success.  And she was continuing to deposit money into her secret bank account.  Once she amassed enough, she’d be free.  She chuckled as she imagined her great escape from a miserable life, leaving her fiancé holding the bag—and penniless.  There were so many things she wanted to do once she gained her freedom, all which involved a certain man in green, a certain fighting tournament and anyone else who dared to make Luigi and Daisy miserable.  Yawning, she drifted off to sleep, reflecting on how wonderful the day had been and dreaming of the look on Spike’s face when she made her move. 

He wouldn’t be smirking like a clever villain then.


	40. Mario and Luigi: Sin City Bros

**_Mario’s POV_ **

**Everybody knows that when Luigi and I shout our signature battle cries (my “Let’s-a go!” followed by his “Okeydokey!”), we’re on our way to do battle with our giant, spiky-shelled arch nemesis or frenemy or—whatever you want to call it.  Those cries signal the start of an epic adventure which usually ends with Koopa’s retreat, kisses of gratitude and slices of cake from our Princess and peace being restored, for a while at least.  And while these adventures have their perils, we wouldn’t trade either of them for the world.**

**Weegee and I are a team.  Always have been; always will.  I couldn’t have survived these quests without my bro by my side.  In recent years, Koopa, Fawful and the rest of our foes have been forced to acknowledge and respect our loyalty.  There was that time when that Star Gate pointed out that loyalty after putting us to the test.  Then, there was that unforgettable time when I ventured into Luigi’s deepest dreams and partnered up with a dreamy version of him.  Our bond and his courage have never been more pronounced than in those impactful moments.**

**Now, back to the story.**

**All of us have heeded Cerena’s advice and taken the previous day off, digesting the information we’ve picked up while shadowing her fiancé.  We’ve crossed paths some more with Zack, either at another casino, or at the Adventuredome, or at a show, or at the various indoor and outdoor attractions, from Bellagio’s dancing fountains to CP’s moving statues.  For the sake of safety, we pretend not to know each other.  But it’s nice to see that he’s looking out for us.**

**Too bad he didn’t see Koopa’s little stunt coming.**

**When he arrived in Vegas two days ago, he should’ve _known_ we were onto him.  He’d encountered Luigi previously, in Bakersfield, and barely escaped the battle with his life.  Any smart villain would’ve lain low until he was certain the danger has passed.  But this is King Koopa we’re talking about here, and he likes to go out with a bang!**

**Jogging down the strip to the casino our archenemy is staying at, Luigi and I keep our eyes peeled out for the little enemies he has scattered out for us, having ourselves some nice skirmishes with them like we always do, warming ourselves up, practicing our individual attacks, Bros attacks and Bros Advanced attacks, watching for their visual cues so we’ll know which of us they’re going to attack.  If we’re hurt, a Mushroom or two will do the trick.  And with each enemy we take down, we gain vital amounts of HP and EXP.  I think we level up a few times, too!**

**But as we draw closer to our destination and encounter tougher enemies (which, if vanquished, reward higher HP and EXP and further increases our chances of leveling up), we start feeling empty pits in our stomachs, like something isn’t quite right.  I sense Luigi getting especially uneasy and quickly squeeze his forearm in reassurance.  But a sixth sense tells us that we probably won’t like what we’re about to see. _Relax_ , we tell ourselves and each other.  _This is any adventure.  We’ve done this thousands of times before.  For thirty-one years to be exact._**

**Slowing to a walk in the shade of buildings and trees, we see a woman running toward us.  At first glance, she looks like she partied too hard last night and got into a scrap with another woman over some guy.  But as we look closer, we realize with sinking hearts that this isn’t the case.**

**“Miss?  Are you okay?” I ask, instinctively rushing to her side.**

**“Don’t you touch me!  Leave me alone!” she screams, punching wildly.  How many times has this been pounded into me— _never_ touch anyone in the condition this woman is in now!  Recognizing the signs, I back off a bit.**

**She has a tattered cardigan wrapped around herself, bruises all over her, and there’s dried or drying blood, as well.  Her eyes narrow as she takes us in—two guys wearing overalls and equipped with weird power-ups, looking like they’re on a mission.**

**“We’re not going to hurt you,” Luigi assured her, reaching out.  “Just tell us what happened, and we’ll get help.”**

**She laughs sharply.  “Good luck with that!  Most of the police are with _him_!”**

**Luigi and I exchange a look.  “Spike?” we ask.**

**She shushes us.  “Yes!” she hisses.**

**“You’re saying he did this to you?” I whisper, grabbing my Cape and putting it over her shoulders.**

**Something seems to _click_ in her mind when she sees the Cape.  “You—you’re the Mario Bros,” she says softly.**

**We nod.**

**“And whoever did this—we’re going to get them, all right?” Luigi assures her.  At least we _hope_ we’ll get them.**

**“My name’s Alessa,” the woman introduces herself.  “I used to staff a Luigi fan club alongside Cerena Sparks.  I assume you’ve made contact with her?”**

**“Yes,” we say in surprise.**

**“We shouldn’t be talking about this in public,” says Alessa, “but my friends are still there, and you have to help them.”**

**“You’re saying they’re others?” I ask.**

**Alessa nods.  “I knew from eavesdropping on Spike that Cere is here.  She’s going to be married to him soon.  I’ve—been here since I graduated from high school.  I never got to go to college or get a job, I never…” She trails off.  We feel sick.**

**“Cere’s monstrous parents forced her to end our friendship,” says Alessa, “but we saw each other in secret for a while.  That is, until my parents got suspicious and decided to move halfway across the States.  I finished 12 th grade in a new school full of unfamiliar faces.  And on the night of my graduation—I was grabbed.”**

**“Were your parents there?” asks Luigi.**

**“I later learned that they arranged the whole thing,” snaps Alessa, hate and rage in her voice.  “What kind of parents would lure their own child into a sick man’s clutches?  For these past years, I was at the mercy of Spike and his buddies.  By day, I was put to work as an informant, forced to sentence other Luigi fans to the same fate.  By night—I’m going to be sick…”**

**Luigi and I hold her gently as she heaves.**

**“Just let it out, _bella_ ,” I murmur.  **

**On Alessa’s other side, I notice that Luigi is boiling with rage.  I put one hand on the small of his back, so it’s like we’re in a group hug.  Alessa’s retching ceases, but Luigi and I continue to hold each other until the frightening look is gone from my baby bro’s face.**

**“I managed to escape last night,” she says.  “Thank God, I’m beyond his power forever.  But he still has my friends.  Here.”  She fumbles around a bit before withdrawing a folded sheet of paper from the pocket of her cardigan.  “These are the casinos where they’re being kept.  Under the name of each casino are their room numbers.”  She taps her chest proudly.  “This princess rescues herself.”**

**“Good going!” smiles Luigi.  “Have you talked to Cere?”**

**“Her brother-in-law has arranged for the copies of their room keys to be sent to you,” says Alessa, “and let me guess—the Princess is in another castle?”**

**“She is,” I sigh.  “I don’t know how, but somehow, that turtle dropped a big one on us.”**

**“And he’s got Daisy, too!” adds Luigi.  “Knowing her, she put up a big fight.”**

**“Luckily for you, the rendezvous point for Zach and I isn’t far from here,” smiles Alessa.  “Let’s walk.”**

**So we walk, giving Alessa a Fire Flower so she can help us fight enemies.  She now wears a red t-shirt, white shorts and red and white sneakers.  Just as the Fire Flower starts to wear off, we reach the rendezvous point, where Zack awaits with some clean clothes for Alessa.  They thank us, gift us with more power-ups and healing items, and we continue on our way.**

**We hope Val and Evelyn are aware that the time for relaxation is over.**

**_Luigi’s POV_ **

**** **It’s like I’m still holding the mocking note in my hand. _I get the last laugh, Greenie_!  At first, I thought it was a dream—Daisy had been a nude, sweaty heap in my arms following a very wet (in every sense of the word) evening in her suite’s Jacuzzi followed by a wetter finish in the bed.  The lovely sounds she made were still in my ears as I drifted off, only to awaken with that note on Daisy’s side of the bed.  And then Mario had dashed in, clutching a similar note about Peach.  So on the surface, it seems like a regular mission, but deep down I know that it’s about to get extremely personal.**

**I don’t know what to think of Koopa anymore.  As my friend, as my enemy, as my ally—I’m so confused right now!  Ever since our dreamy adventure, he’s respected me more and even defended me against some of the hate!  When we play sports or go kart-racing, there’s no tension between us at all!  Koopa’s behavior could be so—paradoxical—at times.  I don’t even know if his occasional truces with us are sincere.  He knows not to mess with Daisy, too; she can really throw a punch, and then she’ll have _me_ to deal with.  All bets are off when someone touches _mia Princesa_.  A lot of people should know that by now.**

**After dropping Alessa off with Zach, Mario and I approach the casino.  Good thing they’re keeping to their agreement to key us whenever Koopa checks into their hotel room despite half of the Strip being under Spike’s thumb!  And how nice of Master Hand to reopen Miiverse in time for Koopa to brag about his latest conquests!  Perhaps in a guilt-ridden or remorseful moment, that turtle allowed us to follow him on Miiverse and then followed us back.  Big mistake on his part—he forgot to change his privacy settings once he made off with our Princesses!**

**Inside the casino, some of Spike’s muscle sees us and decide that we’re unwanted company.  But we show them.  Mario and I always come out on top.  We’re recognizable and unstoppable.  You should see the tourists whenever we’re walking the Strip.  It’s safe to say that Las Vegas is—hooked on the Bros.**

**But enough of that.**

**This casino is infested with Spike’s people as well as Koopa’s familiar subordinates.  Clearing our way through promises to be harder than reaching the casino itself.  And I can only imagine the resistance we’ll meet as we move on up to Koopa’s suite.**

**With a wink, the guy at the front desk give us two keys each.  Koopa has probably set aside two rooms for Peach and Daisy.  But no matter.  We’ll get our Princesses back and give that reptile the worst thrashing he ever took.  I feel my adrenal glands stirring just thinking about it.**

**But as we face down baddie after baddie, I can’t ignore the feeling that this incident is going to be different from all the rest…**

**_Koopa’s POV_ **

**They fought surprisingly hard, harder than Green ’St—Luigi—and that lady with the golf club did in Bakersfield.  But I still got them!  GWA-HA-HA-HA!!  I really wanted the golf club lady (What’s her name?  Evelyn, right—Evelyn) to join in the party, but her skills with that thing, as well as some sharp stiletto heels and a dark-haired hunk of a companion scare the heck out of me!  Best not mope over that fact—my friends and I have had a ton of fun with those Princesses so far, regardless!**

**I didn’t know those pesky plumbers care for me so much.  It was quite thoughtful of them to send one of their new friends—Christine, the single mother from the bus, no less—to make sure I arrived in Vegas safely and notify the Bros that I was here and ready for action!  But their considerate actions are about to backfire on them big time—a certain, fussy, two-year-old boy is gonna grow up without a mommy, courtesy of my new buddy, Spike.  And the cherry on top?  I’ll finally have both of their Princesses all to myself!  When Spikey gained wind of my schemes, he had conniptions over it, whining about how “it wasn’t in my best interest”.  What is he, my dad?  I appreciate all he’s done for me, but I’m the King of Koopas.  If anyone’s gonna take care of those Mario Bros, it’s gonna be me.  And I’m not going down without pounding them hard!  GWA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!**

**_Luigi’s POV_ **

**We’ve made it onto the elevator, which swiftly takes us up.  Mario’s sweating; he wipes his brow with a handkerchief.  I must be sweating, too!  We take off our caps and fan themselves with them.  The elevator brakes, the doors open, and two mean-looking guys charge in to make a grab for us!  Body temperatures all but forgotten, we put up our dukes and fight for all we’re worth.  It gets a little shaky toward the end—they appear to have the drop on us.  But then the Star Spirits above reverse our fortunes in the nick of time, and when the elevator reaches our destination, our attackers are bloody and battered heaps on the floor.**

**Mario and I make our way down the carpeted hall, keys in hand, easily subduing more guards as we draw closer to Koopa’s suite.  And it’s at the door where that dreadful feeling is turned up to the max, where we just want to pinch ourselves and wake up in our beds with our Princesses next to us. _C’mon, no reason to fret.  Koopa will be the same as he always is, and you two will beat him in no time_ , our brains whisper in some sort of defense mechanism.  Mamma mia—how else can that turtle get to us?**

**“Ready, Bro?” Mario asks softly.**

**“Ready,” I reply.**

**As quietly as possible, Mario inserts his key into the door and we creep inside.**

**That’s when we hear the music.**

**The moment those notes reach our ears, _poof_!  The uneasiness threatening to invade me is gone, and in its stead is a violent fury no one can ever imagine!  Beside me, Mario goes completely rigid.  Both of us are extremely familiar with the tune faintly coming to us from deeper inside the room.  We should be; in the course of four Smash tournaments, we’ve sparred with each other to this song so many times that our nervous systems have automatically begun secreting adrenaline at the mere mention of it.  But when we hear the wickedly gleeful laughter of those men, _hurting_ our Princesses and making them _scream_ , to _that_ song, of all songs, we’re beyond all control!**

**We dash over to the bed, and I aim a blow at the first person I see before anyone knows we’ve showed up.  I shove him to the floor and pound him mercilessly with fists and elbows.  One of his buddies lunges for me, but I’m ready for him with a powerful kick.  There’s Mario, knocking some coins out of two attackers at once using his jumping uppercut.  He then slams one to the floor to begin his infamous infinite up tilt combo.  I’m also dealing with multiple attackers as they rush to the aid of their comrades; they have their fists and I have mine, but then I execute my Cyclone attack, sending bodies slamming into walls.  I wind up and violently poke my hand straight into one who’s trying to sneak attack Mario.  Bones crack and blood flies.  A man lunges at me with a remote control, but I dodge or block all of his swings and retaliate with smash attacks.  Mario dashes in and meteors the guy with his f-air.  We exchange a quick look before turning around to face the remainder of the guys together.  Punching, kicking, smash-attacking, pulling off combos, grabbing and throwing, sometimes to each other.  Our signature Bros Attacks and Advanced Bros Attacks come into play, and then we pull out our Hammers and our respective elemental powers (fire for him, thunder for me) and really go to work on them!  Those baddies are whimpering and cowering now, far from the rough men doing—things—to the women we love.  It fully registers that we only heard Daisy’s screams when the ambush commenced, and that Peach must be in another room.**

**“I’m on it,” Mario says to me.  “You take care of them!”**

**And he darts into the adjoining room before I can stop him.**

**There’s no way I’m letting Mario face down that turtle alone!**

**I glare darkly at the vile creatures before me, quivering like Jell-O.  “You’re not worth my time,” I snap.**

**“What’s the matter?” sneers one.  “Too chicken to lay judgement on us?”**

**“It’s not my place to judge you,” I tell him before sliding my eyes to Daisy.**

**A bedsheet is wrapped around her, and she clutches the fragments of her clothes in her arms.  She tears these fragments into smaller strips and helps me tie their hands and feet.  When we’re finished, I notice that a maid has walked in with a large jug of what I know is scalding hot water and what appears to be several plates of food on a tray.  Silently, she places the tray on the floor, offers us a knowing smile and a wink and takes her leave.  I bring the tray over to where the bad guys can see and lift the covers off the plates.  And when we all see what those plates hold, the baddies start blubbering and sweating.**

**I hand the jug of scalding water to Daisy.  “They’ve had their fun,” I tell her.  “Now it’s time to for you to have yours.”**

**After she gives me a quick peck on the nose, I head out after Mario, leaving the men to face their fate.**

**_Mario’s POV_ **

**On my way to confront my eternal rival, I feel my gag reflex starting to kick in.  Poor Daisy!  I’ve known Spike and Koopa had it in for us, but I’ve never suspected things would grow _this_ awful!  What on Earth can that reptile be up to with Peach?**

**That song is still blaring all around me.  I think Koopa enjoys aggravating me and my bro.  Why else does he keep trying to take over the Mushroom Kingdom?  Why else is it hard to keep a truce with him?  His hypocrisy regarding Luigi’s situation is the limit for both of us.  We never should’ve trusted him to begin with!**

**“Hey!  Wait up!”**

**I smile wryly.  “That was quick.”**

**“Don’t worry.  Daisy’s going to take good care of them.  Besides,” And he looks intently at me, “You don’t stand a chance against him by yourself.”**

**“Thanks, Lil’ Bro.”**

**We reach the suite with surprisingly little resistance.  I insert the key, ease the door open, and we make our cautious entry.**

**And there he is, sitting on the sofa, eating an omelet and watching TV.  No sign of Peach anywhere.  My stomach clenches, and I feel Luigi’s hand on my shoulder.  We tiptoe farther into the suite.  And it’s there, on the sofa cushion next to Koopa, that we see what we need to see.  Peach’s dress, or what’s left of it, and occasionally, he reaches over and pats it lovingly.  Steam rises from my ears, and in about three seconds, I’m going to—**

**“I was wondering when you two would show up,” he says without turning around.**

**“Where is she?” I demand, struggling to keep my voice calm.**

**“She’s resting right now,” he replies.  “I wouldn’t disturb her if I were you.  She’s had a long night.”**

**“So I’ve heard,” says Luigi.**

**Then, we hear a soft, stirring noise from the other room.  It’s her, it’s her—I just know it is!  Relief floods my veins at the confirmation that she’s still breathing, that her heart’s still beating.**

**And then Koopa laughs.  “Tough luck, Bros!  You made a powerful enemy in my new friend, Spike!  Just you wait till he gets hold of you!”**

**“Well, I hear that he didn’t approve of this,” I say smartly.**

**“He’s going to be very upset when he finds out,” Luigi adds.**

**“Well, that’s a risk I’m willing to take,” smirks Koopa.  “If I go out, then I’m going out on my own terms—and you’ll never see the Princess again!”  He laughs his booming laugh.**

**“Not if we can help it!” Luigi and I yell in tandem.**

**_Koopa’s POV_ **

**There’s no point in hiding from those two.  I casually sit in front of my TV with my breakfast, waiting for them to show up.  And they do.  They don’t look very happy—which isn’t surprising given the stunt I’ve pulled with their princesses—but I’m still ready for them.  I hear Peach stirring from the bedroom my friends and I have left her in—the others have left by now and are probably moaning in pain somewhere, courtesy of the Mario Bros.  They’re not as dumb as I thought—even they know that my actions are against Spike’s orders.  But I don’t have to answer to him—not as long as I’m still a king!**

**The chatting stops, and the real battle begins.**

**Like every battle with those Bros, it’s intense.  They pull out all of their stops, and so do I.  There are those fancy team attacks they tend to execute, and of course there are power-ups and healing items and all of that good stuff.  They jump on my head from time-to-time, and there’s some Smash stuff they mix in there, as well.  But like every villain, I save the best for when they think I’m almost down for the count.**

**You see, the omelet I was eating before they showed up isn’t any old omelet.  It’s a special omelet, made with secret ingredients, and those secret ingredients start to kick in, making me stronger and almost invincible.  As my special omelet metabolizes in my system, I’m able to laugh off every single attack those plumbers throw at me.  Being the archenemy that I am, I have to cheat a little, don’t I?  I can’t make things _too_ easy for them, right?  I can see the blazing determination and defiance in their eyes, but their spirit is no match for my might and dirty fighting.  It’s not long before I’m grabbing them and body-slamming them to the floor, smashing them against walls, slicing into them with my Whirling Fortress attack and sending them into confusion with my Fire Breath.  I attack with blinding claw strikes, dropkicks, headbutts and more.  I may be slow, but hey, that’s the price you pay for being a heavyweight fighter.  And now I have those two so-called heroes at my mercy!  GWA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!**

**Just when I think my moment has finally come, a lethargic feeling washes over me…**

**_Luigi’s POV_ **

**I knew Mario couldn’t face that turtle alone.  I knew he had a trick up his sleeve.  But this trick is hidden in plain sight—his omelet.  Turns out, his breakfast gives him more power and immunity from our attacks.  How he’s managed to obtain such an omelet, Mario and I will never know.**

**We’re doing so wonderfully at first, though!  At the same time, we jump him for our signature stomp.  Then, we really let him have it.  I use my superior jumping ability for aerial kicks and chops, and my tendency to slip and slide helps out when I have to dodge claws or feet.  I’m trying to avoid his shell, instead going for his soft underbelly and legs with open hand stabs, breakdance sweeps, roundhouse kicks, crouching kicks and overhand punches.  Then, I tack on more damage from longer distances with my fireballs.  From my vantage point, I can hear Mario shouting incomprehensibly as he batters the Koopa King.  I share some of my attacks with him—starting off these tournaments as a clone can do that for you—but over time, most of them have deviated.  Like my Fire Jump Punch.  Oh, yeah—I manage to get a truckload or two of those in.  Mario’s Cape deflects Koopa’s fiery breath back in his face.  Or, when an attack leaves our adversary in a state of freefall, the Cape can send him helplessly in the opposite direction.  Preferably, towards me, so I can positively let rip on his tail.  I charge up and literally rocket myself into Koopa’s ribcage, and dissatisfied with the result, I do it again, this time getting a spectacular misfire.  The feeling and sound of that monster’s ribs shattering apart beneath my forehead—that’s bliss, I tell you.  Koopa doubles over, and Mario wastes no time holding him in place whilst I whale away at him with everything I have.**

**Here’s where things take a turn for the worse.**

**Koopa’s omelet kicks in at this point, and he flings Mario off of him and sets upon me with his claws.  Mario tries to intercede, only to find that he barely flinches from his attacks!  I manage to get to safety, regroup myself and bravely dash back at Koopa, Mario at my elbow.  Koopa’s going to be sorry for making me bleed like that!  Our most painful Smash attacks and guaranteed K.O. moves come into play, but they’re useless now.  It’s like hitting a dummy or a wall; he doesn’t feel anything.  But we don’t give up.  We know that there’s a phase in each of these battles in which Koopa gains invincibility for a moment, and then something happens to turn the tide.  That’s the way things go, for Koopa has used ill means to obtain his dark powers.  No matter what, they will always forsake him.  Mario and I have our Stars, and we have each other, and we’ll always win.**

**But now we’re starting to pray for that moment to come, as Koopa has quickly gained the upper hand over us.  We’ve taken crushing body slams which would’ve crippled most, slices and slashes from his claws and spines and massive kicks and butt stomps.  He doesn’t even give us time to use our healing items.  Mario and I are in a lot of pain and bleeding heavily.  We know that our HP is low, and unless we have an extra life, Koopa’s going to win this one.  Despite this ominous prospect, we soldier on, striving to crack our enemy’s armor.**

**If we fall, then we’re falling together.**

**And finally, the moment we’re praying for happens.**

**A pink aura surrounds Koopa.  At once, his movements become sluggish, and confusion colors his face.  He stumbles around in a disoriented fashion, clutching his head and shaking it as if to clear it.  It may appear that his breakfast has fully digested, and its power is waning, but we know it’s something—someone—else.**

**Peach!**

**It’s her wishing power!  Throughout our adventures, Peach has relied on her wishing power to heal us or weaken our foes.  Now, her magic is draining Koopa of much-needed energy—and giving it to us!  We see our wounds healing before our eyes.  We feel the pain dying.  We feel a greater sense of hope.  We’re going to win this battle!**

**With a rejuvenated battle cry, we lunge at our foe once again, this time sparing nothing with our smash attacks and specials.  Koopa roars in agony and dismay as we start depleting his HP anew.  Peach’s magic continues to encircle him, continuing to suck out his power like a straw and deliver it to us like a pipette.  Mario knocks some more coins out of him while I meteor him with my downward spinning kick and spear my hand into the back of his neck.  I’m all over this turtle now, attacking everywhere at once.  Mario cools him off, so to speak, with F.L.U.D.D., pushing him off of his feet a few times.  Feebly, he swipes at us and misses.  No doubt about it, the Bros are back on top!**

**For the grand finale, we use our perfect synchronization to deal one last blow to Koopa.  He spins around a few times before crashing to the floor with a thud.  That’s when Peach, clad in a robe provided by the hotel, seems to fly into the room, bringing her frying pan down hard on the turtle’s horned head.  For good measure, she slams her pan down a few more times until Mario gently coaxes her away.**

**Together, Mario and I grab the moaning Koopa by the tail and begin to swing him round the room, steadily gaining speed with each passing second.  We spin him till our surroundings become a blur, but we bite back our dizziness and spin faster still.  Finally, just as motion sickness kicks in, we let go at last.  Koopa smashes out of a window and tumbles down, screaming, to the street several stories below.**

**Peach, even with her hair disorganized, is beautiful and dignified.  She beams her smile at us as we approach her.**

**“Thank you, Mario,” she says.  “Thank you, Luigi.”**

**She kisses us both on the nose, and little hearts come bursting out of us.**

**After Peach pulls on some shorts and a t-shirt, we head over to meet up with the rest of our friends.**

**It’s time for us to go back to work.**


	41. Prayers for Orlando

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written in honor of the victims of the Pulse Nightclub massacre last June. #PrayForOrlando

              Cerena Cydney Sparks was anxious.

              Not over the fear of getting caught.  Not over the danger her favorite man in green faced.

              But over the events unfolding on the other side of the States, in Orlando, Florida.

              In a nightclub, forty-nine innocent people had met a grisly fate at the hands of a deranged gunman.  Their crime?  Being “different” from everyone else, just like Cerena.

              All she could think was, why?  Why did people like Omar Mateen and Spike still exist?  Why did the blood of forty-nine innocents have to stain that nightclub floor?  Why did the homophobia and violence keep going?

              Would Spike consider doing something like that against Luigi fans?  Cerena bet her investment he would.

              Word of the bloodiest tragedy in this nation spread, even squeezing its way past Spike’s iron curtain.  It was all over TV and social media, sparking gun debates anew.  Cerena lay alone in her and Spike’s bed as her fiancé’s personal physician examined her at his insistence, watching the continued outcry on the news.  Rather than sitting, concerned, at her bedside, Spike was off spending her money at goodness knows where, flirting with other women and terrorizing some other poor Luigi fan.

              Tears rolled silently down her face.  These were her brothers and sisters being laid to rest!  People going about their daily lives and having fun—until this psychopath saw fit to mow them down like animals!  She’d worry about the gun control component later.  Right now, she sent out a silent prayer for peace, for the people of Orlando to rise from the ashes of bloodshed to become stronger than ever.

              Kimberly Morris.  Brenda Lee Marquez McCool.  Juan Chavez-Martinez.  Darryl Roman Burt II.  These were just four of the souls cut down too soon by pointless violence.  One of those souls was even celebrating his Master’s degree!  More on Omar Mateen’s past was coming out.  Two women had complained of him stalking them.  He had a prior history of violent actions, even threatening to bring a weapon to school!  Why didn’t anyone do something about him?  Why hadn’t he been thrown in jail before he had the chance to do something like this?!

              As the doctor was finishing his examination, Spike walked back into the suite, whistling, carrying bags of merchandise, as if this was another ordinary day and the stuff on TV was nothing more than a kid getting a boo-boo on the playground.  For him, it was an ordinary day, but for forty-nine, the night of June 12 had been their last.

              Then, Spike turned, pretending to just notice what was on the television.  “Shame, that,” he sighed in feigned mourning for the victims.  He turned to his entourage and said, “Perhaps we should set up a victim’s fund in their honor.”

              The men muttered in agreement.

              Then, Spike took the remote and changed the channel to Cartoon Network.  “Let’s not spoil our upcoming special day with depressing news, shall we?” he cooed.

              The doctor approached him.  “Her vitals look fine,” he said.  “I would say that this is nothing more than stress brought on by Luigi’s breach of your security.  She fears for your safety, sir.”

              “I’m flattered to know how much she cares about me,” said Spike.

              “Give her a few days of rest, and she’ll be back to her old self in no time,” the doc went on.

              “She’d better.”

              “Sir, you cannot rush things like this.  I want her to be well enough to walk down that aisle as much as you do, all right?”

              Realizing the tone his voice had taken, the doc grabbed up his things and hiked out of the room fast.

              One of Spike’s henchmen followed him.

              Seconds later, the occupants of the suite heard a muffled thump and the sounds of struggling.  Spike smiled.  This physician was starting to ask too many questions, anyway.  No man or woman of medicine lasted long in Spike’s world.

              He then swung his gaze over to Cere, laying there on the bed, practically begging her to say something.

              Mustering up her courage, she did just that.  “I’m—not feeling very strong right now,” she confessed.

              Spike blinked.  “What makes you think that matters to me?”

              Cerena had never loathed anyone more.

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              In a quiet spot outside the Strip, Luigi knelt, his green cap over his heart, head lowered in grief.  He was distraught.  Not over the details of Koopa’s last stand, but over the tragedy which had unfolded three time zones away, in Orlando, Florida.

              Forty-nine souls.  Forty-nine souls different from mainstream society.  Forty-nine souls who had perished in a senseless act of hatred and violence.  One man, full of bigotry and homophobia, had ruined a night of fun for everyone else, taking forty-nine lives in the process.  What had happened to society?  What had caused so much hate to accumulate?  What did people of different races, genders, sexual orientations, identities and religions do to be harassed so much?  Luigi could only imagine what those hating on him and his Princess were capable of, if they’d have the gall to try something like this on their fans.  Crying silently, he knelt there, praying.  Praying for the lost, wandering souls of the slain, praying for the grief-stricken family and friends they left behind and praying for a way to make this hatred end.

              What had make this man, Omar Mateen, snap?  How many others like him, Spike, Koopa, Tristan, Budd, Marth and the others were out there, hating and plotting?  It was enough to make Luigi’s stomach lurch.  Why did everyone want to attack anyone different from them?  Not just the forty-nine sadistically slain at the Pulse Nightclub, not just him, Mario, Peach, Daisy and Christine—but anyone “different” in general?  Why reject them when they could welcome them?

              A deep sob pushed its way from his being.  He wasn’t sure if he could take anymore.  First the harassment and taunting, then the—incident—with Koopa, then learning of Christine’s dreadful fate, and now—this.  The hate was only getting worse, and there was nothing he could do about it.  He felt so helpless, so frustrated and so angry.  How would these bullies and bigots finally be convinced to get their acts together?  What had to happen to persuade humankind to live in harmony?

              He raised his head, put his cap back on and summoned a Warp Pipe.  There was something he could do.  And his fellow Smashers needed him right now.

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              Within the halls of the Smash Mansion, a somber mood reigned.  Master Hand had received news of the tragedy in Orlando and declared a day of mourning for the fighters.  All matches were canceled.  Rainbow flags and banners bedecked the place.  And everyone sat around, wondering why someone would gun down forty-nine others in cold blood.

              Inside his office, Master grieved with Crazy Hand and Master Core.

              “Pointless violence,” Master was saying.  “That’s what this all is.  Pointless violence.  I mean, we have fighting take place here, but never out of hatred and anger.  I just don’t understand…”

              “This guy had a history, too!  Did you hear about the women he stalked?” asked Crazy.  “He should’ve been frying instead of…”

              “I know,” said Master.  “I know.”

              “We have to do something,” said MC.  “Smash may be a blood sport of sorts, but we don’t condone that kind of brutality.  We have to do something.”

              “I know what we can do,” said a voice.

              The trio whirled.  Just out of a Warp Pipe stood Luigi, his face streaked with tears.

              “L!  You’re back!” cried Master.

              “For the time being,” said Luigi.  “I heard about what happened, and…”

              “I understand,” said MC.  “There’s so much hate going on, against you and Daisy, and now against those forty-nine innocent souls…”

              “What are you proposing, L?” asked Crazy.

              “Meet me in the yard tonight,” said Luigi, “and bring your candles and flags.  We are having a candlelight vigil.”

              The three bosses nodded.  A candlelight vigil sounded like the right thing to do.

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              As the sun set that night, the world of Smash went dark, save for the flicker of a river of candles.  Video game characters from Nintendo, Sega, Capcom, Bandai-Namco and many others put aside their differences to support a city which had seen the worst bloodbath in U.S. history.  They came to affirm their belief in civil rights, and that everyone had the right to live happy and productive lives, regardless of who they loved.

              Leading this candlelight vigil was Luigi, clad in a yellow shirt and hat to symbolize Florida’s sandy beaches and green overalls to complement the color.  In his eyes were fresh tears, a somber expression coloring his face.  Directly beside him walked Mario, Peach, Yoshi, Daisy, DK, Evan and Mandy, with the other Smashers bringing up the rest of the crowd.  Some had ditched their regular costumes in favor of rainbow-colored attire.  They waved flags and held up placards to memorialize the forty-nine who didn’t deserve to die.  Supervising them were the riot police from different universes, ensuring that this was a peaceful get-together.

              In no time at all, characters related to the fighters joined the march, the ranks swelling as old foes united in sorrow and sympathy.  Ryu’s fellow Street Fighters.  Tiff, Tuff, Ribbon and Chef Kawasaki.  Blade, Sword, Lalala and Lololo.  Tails, Knuckles, Shadow and Amy Rose.  Jeff, Ninten, Poo and Paula.  Kumatora.  Even Dr. Eggman and Ridley.  Their solemn march traversed the Mushroom Kingdom, Kongo Jungle, Hyrule, Brinstar, Yoshi’s Island, Popstar, the Pokémon worlds, the Green Hill Zone, Skyworld, Palutena’s Temple, all of the Fire Emblem locales, Mute City and Big Blue, Pac-Land and the other worlds of the other fighters.  People silently emerged from their houses, shaking their heads, praying, crossing themselves, shaking their fists toward the sky or joining in.

              “Let those forty-nine rest, okay?” called out one.  “They deserved better than that!” 

Looking down on the sight, openly crying, were Master Hand, Crazy Hand and Master Core, disheartened over the massacre but also proud that a certain man in green was unselfish enough to abandon his own venture to support the reeling citizens of Orlando, Florida.

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              **_“Good evening, Smashers, gamers and citizens alike.  It’s-a me, Luigi.  I am currently leading a candlelit procession of fifty-plus and counting across such universes as Nintendo, Capcom and Sega.  My tears are flowing with yours over the events that transpired on Sunday, June 12, at the Pulse Nightclub in Orlando, Florida.  My heart breaks for not only the families of the victims, but for the lovely city forced to witness the spilling of innocent blood.  I want you all to know that I believe love has no gender, that the forty-nine who lost their lives that night did nothing wrong.  All they were doing was living,_ existing _, being their own people until this man unloaded his irrational rage on those unable to defend themselves against him.  If you can hear me, and if you’re wondering if you can do anything to help, I’m here to tell you that you can.  If you can see me and see the candles lighting up this despairing event, then feel free to join in.  It doesn’t cost a single coin.  To the people of Orlando—if you can hear me, I want you to know that I am praying for you, and my friends are praying for you.  If you are there, struggling to pick up the pieces, then I want to send this message loud and clear—you are not alone.  Say again—you are not alone.”_**

                


	42. Pax Deorum

**Domineoveniteosacramentum(discesm)eodeo**  
**Domineoveniteosacramentum(discesm)eodeo**  
 **Domineoveniteosacramentum(discesm)eodeo**  
 **Athairarneamhdialinn, athairarneamhdialiom**

**Omnem crede diem tibi diluxisse supremum.  
Omnem crede diem tibi diluxisse supremum.**

**\--Enya**

              Claude Mitchell stood in his hotel room, staring goggle-eyed at the grotesque monster peering back at him.  Heck, it hardly even _looked_ like a human face now.  It was raw and swollen, eyes in a squint, blotched with all sorts of macabre hues.  Sanguine rivers stained whatever vision remained.  The pain was all over, and Claude felt a little sick to his stomach.

              “My God!” he gasped.  “Look what you’ve done to me!”

              “Oh, I haven’t even started yet, you sadistic brute!” snapped Luigi, struggling against the men currently holding him, primal hatred in his eyes.  “By the time I’m done with you there won’t be any of that face left for the paparazzi to photograph!  I’m going to ruin you for what you’ve done, you hear me?”

              “Sir, something must be done with him,” one man said urgently as Luigi elbowed him in the chest.

              Claude didn’t hear him, petrified by his nearly bashed-in face.  The rest of his body had also suffered from Luigi’s rage-fueled strikes.  His side ached, and he was using a table to hold himself up.  He knew that bruises would be painted everywhere, and if something wasn’t fractured or broken, then it would be a miracle.

              How on Earth did he get into this in the first place?

              Oh, yeah.  It had _something_ to do with the “party” a certain overgrown turtle had invited him to a few days ago, against Spike’s wishes.  Claude was extremely lucky that not only did he manage to escape from the Mario Bros, but that also he still had his job and that he hadn’t been severely punished for treachery; all he got from this was a brief lecture.  But he didn’t have time to dwell on it, not as long as there was an intruder in his suite.

              “How could you accuse me of such a heinous crime?” Claude demanded of Luigi.  “I have a wife and kids!”

              “You weren’t thinking about them as the rulers of two powerful kingdoms screamed and begged you to stop,” Luigi said hotly.  “Your family was the last on your mind as you did _things_ to them and _laughed_ as you watched your friends hurt them!  You were just thinking about yourself!”

              Claude drew himself up.  “Listen, buddy.  I don’t know who you think you are, barging into my room and portraying me as some sort of monster.  What would I want with two powerful monarchs, anyway?”

              “It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?  You _had_ to show that turtle and your buddies how much of a real man you were!  And now look what’s happened!”

              “Keep your voice down, or you’ll disrupt everyone else!” ordered Claude.

              “Let them hear!  Let them hear the foul, violent person you are!  Maybe then they’ll snap out of the daze Spike has put them in!” yelled Luigi.

              “You know what—everything was going swimmingly until you and your band of troublemakers showed up,” hissed Claude, “so do us all a favor and go back to where you came from!”

              With an enraged shout, Luigi wrenched himself free of Claude’s men and pounced on him for the second time, sending his fists smashing into his already injured face even harder than during the initial ambush!

              The men tried to pull Luigi off, but this time, he was ready for them, blasting fireballs into their midst.  While they wailed, attending to their burns, Claude finally managed to free himself from the barrage.

              “Teach him a lesson!” he croaked to his men, who seized the green-capped plumber and dragged him to the bathroom as he struggled and screamed threats at them.

              Claude rose back to his feet, fresh pain, fresh bruises and fresh blood on his face.  If he and the other guys managed to escape from this man in green in one piece, then Spike owed them one heck of a raise! 

 

_Several moments earlier…_

              As Luigi helped his fellow Smashers recover from the tragic events in Orlando, Florida, Daisy, Peach, Mario, Evelyn and Val helped him move past Koopa’s last stand.  Dr. Mario frequently video chatted with the Princesses and made them promise to come to him immediately if things took a drastic turn.  Through Zachary, Cerena sent well-wishes to Peach, Daisy and their plumbers.  Toadsworth had flown in within hours of hearing the news, and Peach had to calm him down by assuring her that she was okay.  The Toads and the people of Sarasaland were outraged, and their respective Princesses promised that the perpetrators had been or would be severely punished for their crimes.  It wasn’t long before Daisy and Peach were openly discussing their ordeal with the Bros, Toadsworth, Dr. Mario, Val, Evelyn and their other friends.  And with the revelation of details came further outrage.

              Now, Mario and Peach, and Luigi and Daisy were in a crowded movie theater, each sharing a nice-sized tub of buttered popcorn, watching _The Secret Life of Pets_ , a funny and cute animated flick.  They laughed, chuckled and giggled at the zany antics of these house pets, antics which their owners apparently didn’t know about.  Peach and Daisy were snuggled comfortably against their plumbers, heads resting against crooks of necks and tender arms over shoulders.  Val and Evelyn were also present, feeding each other Mike & Ike candies.  Paul sat between Daisy and Evelyn, with his drink and his bag of popcorn, absorbed in this delightful comedy as Evelyn sneaked him some candy every now and then.  He didn’t notice Val give Evelyn a kiss on the cheek, or Luigi locking lips with Daisy, or Mario kissing Peach on her forehead.  The six of them were relaxing and taking a break, along with everyone else in the theater, basking in the smell of fresh popcorn and the surround sound drowning out the quiet crunching and slurping.  And when the movie was over and the end credits rolled, they would all exit the theater and talk about the fantastic film they just saw before going on with their daily lives.  It was what they did.

              But in seconds, this casual movie date would turn into disaster.

              The audience was hooting delightedly at a particularly funny scene of the movie when suddenly, the picture abruptly cut to a blue screen.  A surprised and startled hush swept the seating area, followed by grumbles of annoyance.

              “Hey—what happened to the movie?” pouted Paul.

              “Don’t worry,” said Daisy.  “It’s probably a technical difficulty.”

              Even as she spoke those words, the screen went black and then came back on.  But it showed something else entirely—

              A man’s casually smiling face filled the shot.  “Hello, people of Las Vegas,” he greeted.

              “What the heck?  Is this a trailer or something?” asked Val.

              “I don’t know,” replied Evelyn.

              “I don’t recall this being in the movie,” mused Luigi.

              “I guess something happened to the film, and they’re showing us some filler while fixing it,” shrugged Peach.

              “I know—I know what you’re probably wondering,” said the man on the screen.  “You’re asking yourselves and each other: ‘Who is this man?  What is he doing on this screen?  Where’s our movie?’  Well, don’t buy another vowel, because I’ll give you all the answers.  My name is Claude Mitchell, and what you’re about to see is what happens when you cross Sin City’s most revered man, Spike Plaxwell.”

              “Dear God,” gasped Daisy.  “Is he going to show what Spike does to Cerena?”

              “I—I…” stammered Luigi, unwilling to voice his suspicions.

              “It appears we have some new visitors to this wonderful city,” Claude went on.  “A few nights ago, some friends and I decided to have a little fun with some of them.”

              Both Luigi and Mario stopped breathing.

              “Daisy, just trust me—don’t look!” beseeched Luigi.

              “Peach, _bella mia_ , look at me, okay?  Pay no attention to the screen; just pretend it’s not there…”

              “Enjoy the show,” snickered Claude, and with that, the scene cut—

              Screams of horror erupted as the “film”, obviously recorded on an iPhone, began playing on the screen.  It wasn’t exactly HD, but the quality was enough to clearly see what was going on!  And the audience immediately recognized the Princesses of the Mushroom Kingdom and of Sarasaland.  Their own screams and pleas mixed with the oaths, prayers and other interjections from the seating room as they watched the action unfold.  Val and Evelyn shielded Paul from the terrible sight.  Daisy and Peach were petrified in their seats, unable to tear their eyes from the screen despite the entreaties of their boyfriends.  Other Smashers had come to see _The Secret Life of Pets_ , exploding into outcry at this shameless intrusion.  They could hear Claude and the other men laughing, taunting, grunting and groaning with pleasure as they pounced and piled upon the two political figures.  People began running for the exits, only to discover that the doors had been locked.  Possessed by an unbelievable strength, men and women began breaking the doors open.  As some moviegoers began to collapse, friends and family members called 9-1-1.  Quite a few vomited.  The Princesses managed to get their eyes away from the screen and were now buried protectively in their plumbers’ arms as they did their best to calm and comfort them.

              Towards the front of the row sat Spike and Cerena, flanked by their bodyguards.  Though one of his friends made a rash decision that almost cost everything, Spike was able to make the best of a bad situation and remind the good people of Sin City that he was still very much in charge here.  He’d let his fiancée think that this was an innocent movie date before springing a big one on her, and he relished in the color draining from her lovely face as she was forced to watch.  She’d been warned that if she closed her eyes for even a second or threw up, a prompt and severe punishment would await her when they returned to their hotel suite.  Spike had to hand it to Claude—Koopa’s last stand worked out for the best!

              Angry and desperate moviegoers finally managed to kick open the doors, only to be greeted by Spike’s minions!  They brandished Home Run Bats, cattle prods and other tools of the trade as they forced the escapees back inside the theater.  But the patrons took up arms with whatever they had at the moment and fought back.  Now that the Smashers were here, they weren’t going to put up with Spike’s games anymore!  The Smashers in attendance quickly joined in the battle, even Peach and Daisy, having fully recovered from the initial shock of Claude’s video.  Kirby sucked every last, minion in his sight into his huge maw and swallowed them whole or took on their Copy Ability.  Meta Knight angrily cut swaths through the perps with Galaxia.  Samus jumped into her Varia Suit and joined in the fray.  Pikachu fired electricity at the bad guys.  Little Mac plowed through the baddies with Ryu close behind as Reflet and Robin cast Thoron, Arcfire and Nosferatu on any subordinate they saw.  Roy dashed to Meta’s aid with the Sword of Seals while Cloud assisted Reflet with the Buster Sword.  The dragon twins joined Pit and Palutena in warding off enemies, with Rosalina sending her magic and Luma kicking all over the place.  Lucina sliced and slashed with Falchion while Douglas Falcon Punched bad guys into one another.  PSI from Lucas and Ness lit up the movie theater.  Peach let her fury take control as she bashed craniums with her frying pan, hurled Vegetables and ran Spike’s men through with her Parasol.  Zelda had managed to Teleport outside to get help, taking Link, Sheik and Toon Link with her.  And at the front of the crowd of resisters were the Mario Bros.  The elder pinned foes with fireballs or F.L.U.D.D, knocked coins out of them, sent them into confusion with his Cape and used his “Plunger” move to meteor them into the ground.  The younger also backed people into corners with his fireballs, but he rammed them into walls with his misfired Missile, ground-pounded them into combos, landed kicks in sensitive areas, punched them in faces and all over their bodies, repeatedly stabbed his hand into them and nailed them with fiery uppercuts.  He was by far the angriest of them all!

              The brawl went on until the moviegoers noticed a Smash Ball floating inside.  Instantly, the Smashers began whacking it at their comrades, hoping that someone would break it.  Thinking quickly, Mario sent it toward Luigi, who decimated it with a handful of karate chops.

              “Everyone stand back!” Luigi commanded as he brandished his Poltergust 5000.  “Time to clean up this mess!”

              He turned the machine on to max power and began sucking.  All of Spike’s subordinates found themselves trapped inside of the ghost-capturing machine.  Spike, Cerena and their bodyguards had managed to escape earlier on.  The moviegoers cheered as Luigi vacuumed up the last of those horrible people.  He then calmly walked out of the theater, through the lobby and into the parking lot, where he ejected the bad guys skyward.

              “Don’t ever come back!” Luigi yelled after them.

              He looked down and saw a folded slip of paper.  Curious, he picked it up and unfolded it.  A room key was taped to the paper, with a room number and a casino name written above it.  Luigi recognized this as the work of the clever and quick-witted Cerena Cydney Sparks.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Luigi and Daisy were back in their hotel suite, sitting on the edge of the bed.  Daisy was presently drinking from a water bottle, Luigi’s hand on the small of her back.

              “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” he asked.

              “Yeah,” Daisy softly replied.  “I just need to clear my head.”

              There was a comforting silence between them.

              “If the need arises, Peach and I will be able to identify the others by sight,” said Daisy.  “I take it Cere gave you the key to Claude’s room?”

              “She did.  How did you…?”

              Daisy smiled as she pulled the slip of paper out of Luigi’s pocket.  “I have very good eyes,” she explained.  She unfolded it and gazed at the key.

              “You know,” said Daisy.  “In Sarasaland, those men would’ve been sentenced to hard labor.”

              “How many years?” asked Luigi.

              “Well, seeing that they have no remorse, I’d say—two and a half.  Followed by another three years in boot camp and finally exile.”

              “Peach would exile them immediately.  They’re menaces to decent society.”

              “Yup,” nodded Daisy.  She handed the paper back to Luigi.  “What are you going to do?”

              “I just want to make sure you’re all right,” sighed Luigi.  “First, there was Koopa’s last stand, then Orlando, and now this…”

              “Peach and I are going to be fine.  Trust me on this,” said Daisy, gently kissing Luigi.  “Just—watch out for Claude.  He’s devious and dangerous.”

              “Duly noted,” smiled Luigi.

              The duo shared one more kiss before Luigi departed to confront Claude.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              After the stunt at the movie theater, Claude was in extremely good spirits.  On his way back to his hotel suite, he phoned Spike.

              “Hey, man.  You okay?” asked Claude as soon as Spike picked up.

              “Yeah.  How about you?”

              “Not a scratch on me.  How’s Cere?”

              “She’s fine.  Just a little shook up, right, my darling?”

              “Yes.  Just shaken up,” replied Cerena’s voice.

              “Spike, I’m sorry, man,” sighed Claude.  “Truly, I am.  I should’ve told you what Koopa was up to, I admit it.  But I just didn’t want you to worry.  I made this mess, and it is my duty to clean it up.”

              “I’m going to be frank with you.  Thanks to you and that turtle, those plumbers have a bounty on all of our heads.”

              Claude simply smiled.  “You keep trying to pick a fight, but I’m just happy you’re still standing.”

              “Same here with you,” said Spike, “but if you feel that bad about it, then you can buy me and Cere dinner sometime.  Tomorrow night sounds good.”

              “Cool,” said Claude.  “I believe it’s high time for another plushie burning.”

              “I concur.”

              “Keep Vegas in line, yes?”

              “Claude, you read my mind!”

              “May I confess something?”

              “What did you do now, Claude?” sighed Spike.

              “I know Koopa and I put everything at risk, but I think the—reward—was greater,” said Claude.

              “What are you saying?” asked Spike.

              “I’m saying that those Princesses were absolutely worth a beatdown from the Mario Bros and a lecture from you!”

              Spike chuckled.

              “I know you’re trying to stay angry with me, but can’t you just imagine?  That night, two figures of royalty were at our mercy—not so high and mighty then, were they?  Of course, Koopa had a history with Peach, so he called first dibs on her.  But that was okay—at least I got to go first with Daisy!  She really _is_ a tomboy—fighting me and the others like a tigress defending her young!  Not that it did any good!  And you should’ve heard the way they screamed—music to my ears!”

              “Oh, yeah—I can only imagine what their screams sounded like,” sighed Spike.

              “I’ve got to hand it to those two—they keep themselves in top shape.  No wonder they caught the eye of those plumbers!  They should’ve thanked God in Heaven every night before me and my pals got our hands on them!  You know what they say: ‘You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone’!  I’m not even going to mention how we all got to go more than once!  Too bad I ran out of there once those plumbers made their grand entrance—I wanted to personally tell them how lovely it felt!  As we speak, I bet they’re going off about the ‘heinous crime’ we committed!”

              “Well, the next time you have a scheme like that up your sleeve, just be sure to run it by me, yes?” Spike gently asked.

              “Fine, I will.  But you have no idea what you missed that night!”

              “In fact, I do.  Now, please, stop exciting me.  I have a busy day planned, and I do not appreciate any distractions.”

              “Sir, if I may, I haven’t reached the best part,” said Claude.  “They kept screaming for our mercy, acting like they hated what we put them through, but—well, you know.”

              “Sure, I know what you mean,” Spike said heartily.  “Cere does the exact same thing.  I quite enjoy a game of hard-to-get.”

              “Should’ve made their so-called ‘heroes’ watch, now that I’m thinking about it,” muttered Claude.  “Hey, have you ever tasted a peach before?  I mean, a freshly ripened peach?”  He grinned.  “I have.”

              “You just love tormenting me, don’t you?” asked Spike as his breathing grew labored.

              “Sorry, sir—I can’t help but share this experience,” Claude said sheepishly.

              “Apology accepted.  Carry on.”

              “Now, the Flower Princess, Daisy—she was sugar and spice and all things nice.  That green man of hers should be counting his blessings!” laughed Claude.  “I’d love to talk more about that night, but I don’t wish to cause you more distress.”

              “I appreciate that,” said Spike.  “We’ll rendezvous at the park tonight.  My men will have the plushies ready.”

              “Tonight at the park.  Got it.  See you there.”

              “See you.”

              Claude hung up and put his cell phone away.  That was when he sensed he was no longer alone.

              He turned and found himself face-to-face with the person he hoped never to see again.

              “Luigi Mario,” Claude stated expressionlessly, frozen by the look he saw on the other man’s face.

              “Claude Mitchell,” Luigi replied, calmly, in a low voice.

              And with that, the plumber attacked Claude with the rage of a dishonored man.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Claude stole another glance at his swollen face in the rearview mirror of his car as he drove through the Henderson suburb.  How was he going to explain this to his family?  Besides Spike, they were everything he had in this world!  Steeped in his thoughts, he had no way of knowing that Luigi was currently gaining the upper hand over his men in the bathroom of his hotel suite.  He was oblivious to the bloody mess he’d walk in on later that night.

              He pulled into the ordinary driveway of an ordinary house, turned off his engine and climbed out of the car.  He fished out his keys, unlocked the door and went in.

              “Daddy!” chirped two little voices as a boy and a girl ran to him.

              “Hello, my angels!” cooed Claude as he scooped them up into his arms.  “Did you behave yourselves?”

              “Yeah!” his offspring replied in unison.

              “How’s Mommy?  Where is she?”

              “I’m in here!” a feminine voice called.  “Dinner’s almost ready!”

              “Okay, kids,” said Claude.  “Go clean your rooms and wash your hands, yes?”

              “Okay, Daddy!”

              The two kids went to attend to their father’s wishes.

              Jacques Mitchell, the son, was in third grade.  He loved M&Ms, trains and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.  When he grew up, he wanted to be a train conductor and say things like “All aboard!”  He enjoyed playing _Earthbound_ , some _Kirby_ games, _Five Nights at Freddy’s_ and even Super Mario.  Somehow, his dear old dad didn’t approve of his affection for the Super Mario franchise, especially when it came to Luigi.  Claude gently explained to him one day that Luigi set a bad example for kids with his selfish desire for Mario’s spotlight.  He “didn’t stay in his place” as the younger brother.  Nonetheless, Jacques continued to play _Luigi’s Mansion_ , _Dark Moon_ and _New Super Luigi U_ behind his father’s back.

              His twin sister, Kylie Mitchell, loved the Super Smash Bros. tournaments.  She mained Kirby, Ness, Villager and Luigi.  She shared her brother’s love of M&Ms, but she preferred airplanes, rocket ships and science fiction over trains.  Every Saturday morning, she’d watch old cartoons like _Dexter’s Laboratory_ and _Justice League_ as well as _Bill Nye the Science Guy_.  When she grew up, she wanted to be an astronaut, a scientist, an aviator or a writer.  She was also a good fan of Luigi, but like Jacques, she had to keep it from her father.

              Kylie and Jacques patiently awaited the days when their father brought “Uncle Spikey” over for a visit.  He brought plenty of M&Ms to feed the homeless and made them M&M sundaes and shakes.  Every Friday morning, he took them out for pancakes and then to the department store for them to pick out a fancy outfit each.  Once, he took Kylie for a ride on his private jet and let her sit in the copilot’s seat, smiling as she pretended to fly over the Atlantic.  Spike even showed her how the controls worked and let her fly the plane with his help for a short while.  Another time, he and Jacques went on a train ride and had ice cream cones on the way back.  In addition, the Mitchell kids fumed to Spike after an argument with their mom or dad, who eventually got them to apologize for sassing them and threatening to run away just because they didn’t get what they wanted.  He served as their source of parental override, as well, sneaking them to the Adventuredome and then back minutes before the parents got home.

              Sound familiar?

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Diane Mitchell, Claude’s wife of twelve years, was putting the finishing touches on the family’s dinner when Claude strode into the kitchen and snaked his arms around her.

              “Claude!  There you are,” she said as they kissed.

              “Diane, _ma cherie_ ,” replied Claude.  “How’s your day been?”

              “Very well, thank you.  And yours?”

              “Rough,” he replied honestly.

              “I see that,” said Diane, examining Claude’s face.  “What happened to you?”

              “I—we’ll discuss it after dinner, once the kids are in bed, shall we?”

              “Sure,” nodded Diane.  “Kids!  Time for dinner!”

              Dinner consisted of smoked chicken breast, boiled potatoes and green beans.  Kylie and Jacques ate it all, using a piece of bread to mop up the juice.  For dessert, there was peach cobbler (oh, the irony) and vanilla ice-cream.  The kids tried and failed to sweet-talk second helpings from their parents.

              After dinner, the kids attended to their toilette, changed into their pajamas and said goodnight to their parents after Diane read them a bedtime story.  Then, Diane and Claude retired to the master bedroom, where the former turned to face her husband.  “All right, Claude,” she said.  “Would you like to tell me what happened?”

              “Did you know that my friend, Spike, had a turtle friend?” asked Claude.

              “Yeah, I know him.  Mario’s archenemy,” said Diane.

              “Well, Spike introduced us, and we hit it off.  We’d have beers together, play a little golf, do a little kart racing—harmless things like that.  A few nights ago—he invited me and a few more of my friends to a sleepover with him and _his_ friends.  He told me he brought along two special guests who were dying to meet us.”

              He paused and drew a shaky breath.

              “Go on,” said Diane.

              “When I found out that the guests were girls, I told Koopa that I was married and had a family,” said Claude, “but—he had this way with words.  He said that these ladies were well-connected, and I figured, why not make some friends in higher places—get more in the know?”

              “I see,” said Diane.

              “So—I accepted Koopa’s invitation, as did my friends.  And we all went to this hotel suite at Bally’s Casino.  It was a nice suite, with a minibar, a flat-screen TV, refreshments set out for us, board games, video games, a few packs of cards.  I thought it was just going to be some innocent fun.  But—oh, God…”

              “What happened in there?” asked Diane.

              “The ladies Koopa was talking about—were none other than…”

              “Princess Peach and Princess Daisy,” gasped Diane.

              Claude’s heart stopped.  “How did you know?”

              “It’s all over Miiverse,” explained Diane, “and the news, too.  You weren’t—involved in that, were you?”

              “Diane, I wish I could lie to you,” whispered Claude, “but the truth is, I saw them there, and I knew they’d been brought against their will.  I ran for the door, but then—these men stopped me…”

              He choked back a sob and went on.  “They forced me back into the bedroom.  Then, my friends and I—they made us watch what they did to those poor women!  If we tried to look away, then they’d beat us and call us vile names.  One guy—he was a freshman in college, for goodness sake—and he threw up all over the floor.  They got so angry at him.”  He closed his eyes as if to force the memory away.  “And once they were finished with them—they told us what we were going to do to them.  Of course, we said no and tried to resist, to escape.  We tried to help those two.  B-but they made us do those things anyway.  They mocked us when we tried to appeal to them and told us that they were going to make men out of us—boys.  And I’m paraphrasing.”

              “My God,” gasped Diane.

              “It was horrible.  We all wanted to die afterwards.  Those fiends made us hurt two political figures over and over and over and over again!”  He burst into sobs.  “Oh, Diane!  You must hate me now!  I don’t deserve to be wed to you anymore!  I don’t deserve to be a father.  I feel like I’m living a lie!”

              “Claude, _mon amour_ , if they threatened you…”

              “They said they were going to go after our families if we ever told anyone,” sniffled Claude.  “When the Mario Bros came, they fled like cowards and left us holding the bag.  We tried to explain it to them—we told them over and over that they forced us to do this—but they were so angry!  And worst of all—those snakes filmed the whole thing and spliced it into a kid’s movie in a theater this afternoon, forcing me to provide an opening monologue, like I enjoyed it!  I guess the green-clad Mario Bro saw it and decided to pay me another visit.  He wouldn’t listen when he told me that my hands were tied.  That’s how I got this.”  He pointed to his beaten face.  “My friends managed to calm him down and explain everything.  Then, he apologized for beating me up and said he forgave us.  Whether or not he’s lying, we’ll never know.”

              “From what I heard, Koopa is gone.  He can’t hurt you anymore.”

              “But I’m certain he left his friends behind,” fretted Claude.  All of a sudden, he sucked in his breath.  “Dear God in Heaven, what have I done?!  Me and my big mouth!  I just spilled everything and now you’re in danger!  _They’re going to hurt you and our poor babies_!”

              Diane took her husband in her arms, shushing him like a child.

              “ _Belle fleur_ —forgive me,” he wept.

              “We’re gonna be okay,” whispered Diane, kissing the top of Claude’s head.  “Nothing and nobody will ever tear us apart.”

              The next morning, Claude and Diane rose early and woke the kids, explaining that they were going to take a trip.  They drove to the Greyhound bus station and ate Cinnabons for breakfast.  Then, Claude put his wife, son and daughter on a bus to L.A., where the Coast Starlight train would take them to Seattle, Washington.

              “Don’t worry; you will be safe there,” he assured them as he kissed them goodbye.  “I’ll call you as soon as the danger has passed.  Kylie, Jacques—listen to your mommy, okay.”

              “Okay,” said Kylie.  “We love you, Daddy.”

              “We’re gonna miss you,” added Jacques.

              The bus arrived at the depot and began boarding.  Claude helped his family on board and offered these parting words, “Good luck to the four of us!”

              With a hiss, the bus doors slid closed.  Claude stood by the door of the station and waved until the bus disappeared from sight.  Then, he walked back to his car and drove away, feeling as if he’d dodged a bullet.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Inside the police station in Las Vegas, a young woman sat, looking anxious.  Her raven hair was in a pixie cut, her eyes the color of emeralds.  In her lap was a photo of a smiling woman who looked exactly like her, a young boy on her hip.  The woman glanced heavenward, as if praying for strength, and wiped away the tears which sprang to her eyes.  She wanted to be anywhere but here.  She wanted her twin sister back, smiling and laughing and playing _Fire Emblem: Fates_ with her.  She wanted to play _Super Smash Bros_ with her nephew instead of dodging questions about his mother.  She wanted to know why her brother-in-law hadn’t answered her calls.

              A young police officer walked toward her.  “Hi.  How may I help you?” she asked politely.

              “My name is Justine Marigold,” said the woman.  “I’m here to identify my sister.”

              The policewoman nodded in sympathy.  “May I have your sister’s name, please?”

              Justine swallowed.  “Christine.”


	43. Sweet Little Lies

              “I appreciate you coming down here, Mrs. Mitchell,” said Daisy.

              Diane smiled.  “Please, call me Diane.”

              Kylie and Jacques were boggle-eyed.  They couldn’t believe that after all of these years, they were finally seeing Luigi in person.

              After the Greyhound Bus dropped them off in L.A., Diane swapped her tickets for the Coast Starlight for a train trip to Sarasaland.  She suspected that something in her husband’s story didn’t add up.  When Diane contacted Daisy, the Flower Princess got a vibe from talking to her and agreed to meet with her, bringing the Mario Bros and Peach along for the ride.  The quartet traveled to Sarasaland via Warp Pipe and met Diane and her brood at the train station, escorting them to Daisy’s castle.  Now, they sat in the main hall, eating a light meal, while Diane discussed her current situation.

              “So—your husband fell in with some bad people?” asked Daisy.

              “Yes, Princess.”

              “You were right to come to me,” Daisy said after a while.  “My people and I will ensure that you come to no harm.”

              Diane blushed.  “I would gladly place myself and my kids under your protection,” she said, “if my husband’s actions didn’t involve you.”

              Daisy frowned.  “Could you elaborate on that for me, please?”

              “These guys forced him to hurt both you and Peach,” explained Diane.  “He felt so awful after it was over.  I’m really sorry you two were put through that, but it wasn’t his fault.  When he tried to say ‘no’, they mocked him and roughed him up.  And now that he told on them, my kids and I are in grave danger.”

              “Koopa is in no position to harm you, Diane,” Luigi piped up.  “Mario and I took care of him.”

              “Unfortunately, some of his friends escaped your beatdown,” warned Diane.  “My husband fears that they’re coming after me next.  And they may want revenge on you, Luigi.”

              “Let them try,” said Luigi.

              “None of those men looked coerced into anything, in my opinion,” mused Peach.

              “It was probably an act so they wouldn’t get suspicious,” postulated Diane.  “Look, I know that you want them to suffer—but my husband is as much of a victim in this as you are.  You have to forgive him.”

              “Could you tell us your husband’s name?” asked Mario.

              “His name’s Claude,” replied Diane.  “Claude Mitchell.  I met him at UConn.  His family is French-American, just like mine.  We got married, had these two kids and moved to Vegas.  I guess what happens here doesn’t stay here, huh?”

              Daisy inhaled sharply.  “Claude Mitchell, you say?”

              “Yeah.  Did the name spark something?”

              “To put it lightly, yes,” replied Daisy.  “Hey, listen—we really need your kids to scoot for a while, okay?  They don’t need to hear or see any of this.”

              “Uh—sure,” Diane said uneasily.

              “My friend, Zelda, has Super Mario Maker set up in the other room,” said Daisy.  “Wanna go there and create your own levels?”

              “Yay!  Super Mario Maker!” cheered Kylie and Jacques in unison, charging into the next room.

              Daisy waited until the door closed behind the two kids before turning back to Diane.

              “Diane, we’re going to show you a video, and I want you to see if you can recognize your husband in it.  I’ve got to warn you—this video is extremely upsetting.”

              “Duly noted,” said Diane.

              “If it gets too much, let us know, and we’ll stop the video as soon as we can,” added Luigi.  “Are you ready?”

              “Yes,” said Diane.  Though she was wary, she fancied a good mystery and hoped to get to the bottom of her husband’s plight.

              She watched as Daisy opened her web browser and pulled up the video.

              “They put it online?” gasped Diane.  “Insurance, perhaps?”

              “You’ll see,” said Daisy as she clicked “play”.

              Within the first seconds of the video, Diane was thankful that the kids were absorbed in Super Mario Maker in the next room.  She felt as if an invisible force was invading her insides.  The obscene images, crystal clear despite being recorded on an iPhone, flooded the computer screen, yet Diane refused to accept them as real.  Daisy, Princess of Sarasaland and the woman Luigi truly loved, was naked on a bed, held there by several naked men.  Cold sweat broke out on Diane’s forehead as she saw a man she knew quite well get on top of the poor lady and—God, she couldn’t say it.  She just couldn’t!  Daisy’s cries were answered with the laughter of the other men in the scene, and Diane could hear another woman screaming, as well—Peach!  Then, the other men swarmed the two Princesses, and that was when Diane felt sick.

              “Sweet Lord,” Diane whispered in French.  “Have mercy on my husband.  Have mercy on me!”

              “Do you want us to stop?” asked Peach.

              “Please,” said Diane.

              Daisy stopped the video and exited the browser.  “What did you see?” she asked.

              “That was him,” Diane half-sobbed.  “The man on top of you—that was him!  He looked like—the ringleader!”

              “Did you see anyone mocking him or menacing him?” asked Peach.

              Diane shook her head.  “What are you trying to tell me?”

              “Diane, we’re sorry we have to tell you this, but your husband wasn’t forced to do anything,” said Daisy.  “He voluntarily went with King Koopa to that party.  He knew of his penchant for snatching princesses.”

              “When Claude told me what happened, he said that he felt like he was living a lie when he came home to us,” murmured Diane.

              “That’s because he _was_ ,” Luigi said gently.  “I wish there was an easy way to put this, but Claude was Koopa’s co-conspirator that night.”

              “Not only did he hurt me and Peach of his own volition, he also willingly participated in terrorizing Luigi’s fans, burning plushies and toys related to him and me and harassing my subjects alongside Spike Plaxwell,” said Daisy.

              “Spike Plaxwell?  I let that man around my kids?!” roared Diane.  “He’s like an uncle to them!”

              “Then I’m happy we told you, so you can remove them from that environment,” said Peach.

              “They won’t have to suffer the fate handed to Cerena Sparks,” added Mario.

              “Cerena Sparks?  His fiancée?” questioned Diane.  “I met her a few times.  If I’d known…”

              “There was no chance.  He forced her to put on a front for the public,” sighed Daisy, “but she’s fighting back—and so can you.”

              “Who in Sarasaland specializes in quickie divorces?” asked Diane.

              “Whoa, whoa, whoa!  Slow down!” balked Luigi.  “How about you keep him in suspense for a while and then spring this on him when he least expects it?  Make him suffer just like he made others suffer.”

              “Make him suffer?  If I want to make him suffer, then I’d take the kids, take the house, take his money—turn him into a bum without even telling him why,” hissed Diane.  “Then, I’d turn him in to the police—along with Spike!”

              “We’ll handle Spike,” Daisy assured her, “but right now, you need some time to process what we just told you.  Feel free to stay here as long as you’d like.”

              “You did right to trust your gut and reach out to us,” said Peach.

              “And you did right to tell me the truth about my husband,” Diane said to her.

              “One more thing,” said Luigi.  “I overheard Claude gloating about Koopa’s final stand to Spike and recorded it.  Maybe when you feel better, you can listen to it as further proof.  The Sarasaland authorities already cleared it as genuine.”

              “I’ll listen to it now, if you don’t mind,” said Diane.

              Luigi handed her a tape recorder, and she prayed to God for strength as she pressed “play”—

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Justine Mulligan had crumpled to her knees upon seeing what was left of her twin sister.  It had brought her from the shelter of denial to the bitter reality.  Christine, her twin, was—gone.  Never again would she see her dote on Todd.  Never again would they have sleepovers together.  Never again would they chat over the phone or meet for lunch dates.  Never again would they play Co-op Mode in _Super Smash Bros. for Wii U_.  Never again would they gush over the newest Fire Emblem game.  Christine would never see Todd off on the school bus on his first day of school.  She’d never get to talk to him about what he wanted to be when he grew up.  She’d never see him receive his high school diploma or his college degree.  She’d never scold him over misbehaving or slipping up in his schoolwork; nor would she praise good behavior and good grades.  She’d never tell him to stop eyeing some girl, see him standing at the altar on his wedding day, hold her grandchildren, or congratulate him on getting his dream job.  All because of some careless, distracted driver!

              “Are you sure he didn’t even stop?” Justine asked the policewoman once they left the morgue.

              The policewoman sadly shook her head.  “Didn’t see her.  Didn’t care.”

              “Well, what was he driving, a Monster Truck?” huffed Justine.  “He really did a number on her!”

              “When we catch him, we’ll be sure to notify you,” said the policewoman.

              Justine looked closer at the policewoman.  There was something more than remorse in her eyes.  It looked like—urgency.  That she wanted to tell her something else, but couldn’t.  Justine had heard tales of Spike Plaxwell, the Luigi hater with an iron grip on the Strip.  The last Justine had heard of her sister, she was helping Luigi take this man down.  Reason enough to suspect foul play.

              “It wasn’t really a hit-and-run, was it?” Justine whispered in the policewoman’s ear once they were out of eyeshot.

              “No,” the policewoman whispered back.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Claude had returned to his hotel suite and threw up at the sight of the mangled remains of the men he’d left with Luigi.  That man in green had escaped!  But how?  Those were four of his strongest men?  If that plumber could subdue them, then imagine what he could do when faced with Claude himself—or Spike!  Immediately, he summoned more men to clean up the mess and then try to figure out Luigi’s whereabouts.

              “We cannot let him leave the Strip!” Claude fretted.  “Not when he’s so close to finding out…”

              “Don’t worry, Claude,” said one man.  “We’ll get that string bean, and we’ll serve him up to Spike on a silver platter.”

              “Good.  Now get going.  There can’t be any witnesses!”

              “There won’t be,” vowed another man.  “I swear it.”

              As soon as the men left, Claude’s phone rang.

              “Hello?”

              “I told you I haven’t even started with you,” said Luigi’s voice.

              “How did you get this number?” demanded Claude.

              “Must’ve been traumatizing, walking in on your friends like that.  I must admit, they fought hard, and they fought dirty.  They were really beating me up in that bathroom.”  Luigi chuckled.  “Some of the blood in there was mine, if it’s any consolation.  They used their fists, the blow-dryer, the mirrors, the shower head, the straight razor—even a flat iron.  They slammed me against cabinets and walls.  They told me that Daisy would never see me again.  Still, I managed to overpower them and get away.  Instead of throwing your friends at me, how about you face me yourself?”

              “Oh, we’ll meet someday,” snapped Claude.  “Count on that.  But you’ve messed with the wrong man.  If you think Spike is powerful, then just you wait until he’s teamed with me.  Good luck trying to stop us!”

              “Well, I have some very powerful friends myself,” Luigi shot back.  “The noose is tightening, Claude.  As we speak, your little secrets are finally being uncovered.  And once we snap the police out of their daze, they’re going to be more than happy to put you away.”

              “What are you talking about?” barked Claude.

              “I can’t wait to see you again, Claude,” said Luigi.  “Try to relax until then, okay.”

              Then, he hung up.

              Frantically, Claude dialed Spike.

              “Yeah, what is it?” asked Spike.

              “The Luigi fans!” wailed Claude.  “I think Luigi and his friends have found them!”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              From Caesar’s Palace to Flamingo to Harrah’s, Spike’s hold was beginning to loosen.  Subordinates lay moaning on the floor or were tied to beds and chairs.  Using the room keys Cere copied for them, Luigi, Evelyn, Val, Mario, Peach, Daisy and the rest of the Smashers raised Spike’s strongholds and engaged in hand-to-hand combat with Spike’s buddies.  Both sides sustained many injuries, but Luigi had numbers on his side.  He was always in the thick of the action, catching some unlucky bad guy in the jaw with a Super Jump Punch or poking his hand into the ribcage of another.  And once all of the baddies were secured, the innocent Luigi fans were finally freed from their prisons, regaining their free will for the first time in months—or in most cases—years.

              Men, women and children alike crowded into Peach’s castle, where the Mushroom Princess provided food, warm showers, clothing, beds, shelter and medical attention to the ex-prisoners.  Word of the successful rescue was sent to Cerena, who congratulated Luigi and his friends on their bravery.  Next, Luigi notified Master Hand of his discovery, who responded with a week-long food and clothing drive.  When the story was finally released to the press, everyone in both the real world and the Smash universe was outraged.  Spike’s façade was finally cracking, the citizens of Sin City finally seeing him for the evil man he really was.  The LVPD began an internal investigation into who was corrupt and who wasn’t.  But there was still work to be done before Spike was brought down once and for all.

              Luigi spent that night in the company of his rescued fans, signing autographs, standing for photos and selfies and providing comfort.  His ears swelled with the gratitude of those who had suffered and hung in there to prove that they still believed in him, who’d held on to their hope when it should’ve been lost.  Seeing the smiles back on their faces was absolutely worth the danger and hardship he’d endured since setting foot in Las Vegas.

              “You all have your lives back,” Luigi said to them.  “Your nightmare is over!”

              “Not for me, it isn’t!” one fan piped up.

              “How come?  Is something the matter?” asked Luigi.

              The fan nodded, tears in her eyes.  “I’m carrying his baby!” she announced.

             


	44. Interlude: Rebel Bride

**_Cerena’s POV_ **

**It seems that someone is finally paying attention up there, for yet another long night of “pleasure” has come to a merciful close.  As my fiancé spends himself and then lands on top of me, I’m feeling a lot of things, and none of them good.  He trails “loving” and passionate kisses down my body, whispering about how wonderful and lovely I am.  Me—I tune him out and think about the paperwork which has recently been finalized—the paperwork barring him from spending any more of my money.  My secret bank account is pretty much a fully-grown tree now, and the cherry on top is that all of the Luigi fans are free!  I was so happy when I received the news that I could’ve broken into a victory jig.**

**What’s more, I’ve secretly notified the SEC—yes, _that_ SEC—of my family’s homophobic attitudes and atrocious, outdated practices as well as of Spike’s true side.  Who would want to buy from a company who practices hate and intolerance, anyway?  And the _piece de resistance_ —my tell-all novel that even the author of this story didn’t even know about is just hours away from publication!  Just wait until that baby hits the shelves—people won’t want to stop reading!**

**Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming.**

**“Now didn’t that feel good?” he coos to me.**

**I put on my sweet smile and cheerful voice and reply, “Oh, yes, Spike.  As always.”**

**“I have some interesting news,” says Spike as he settles next to me, fondling me.  “Would you like to hear it?”**

**“Yes, I do.”**

**“Start rehearsing your wedding vows, because we’re getting married tomorrow,” announces Spike.  “I originally planned to have us tie the knot in two weeks, but recent events have forced me to push up the wedding date.”**

**“Spike, that is just wonderful!” I gush.  “I can’t wait to be your wife!”**

**“Neither can I,” sighs Spike.  “Do you like the wedding dress I picked for you?”**

**_Of course I do.  I have to like everything you do for me, or there will be the Devil to pay_.  Out loud, I respond, “It’s very beautiful.  You have a wonderful taste in fashion, Spike.”**

**“Why, thank you, my dear Cere,” says Spike.  “I have sent word to your folks back in Henderson.  They fly in this afternoon.  I expect you to be ready to pick them up.”**

**“Absolutely,” I nod.**

**“My friends will be on hand to assist you with the preparations.  You will follow their instructions to the letter, yes?”**

**“Yes.”**

**“Tomorrow, you will be the perfect bride celebrating the happiest day of your life.  Kiss all of your perverse fantasies goodbye, for they won’t help you as the mother to my heir.  And you can get the idea of Luigi being a bona fide hero out of your mind, because as far as I’m concerned, he’s a hindrance to our future together.”**

**“Okay.”**

**“I do sincerely hope that the ceremony will go off without a hitch.  It would be wise if you were on your best behavior.  If you so much as look at me or any of the guests in a way which I find suspicious or displeasing, then there’s going to be trouble.  And I have instructed my buddies to take action if you communicate with or attempt to communicate with anyone for any reason without my say so.  We are going to have so much fun tomorrow, yes?”**

**“Oh, yes.”**

**“And now that a ring will be on your finger, I don’t see any reason to continue playing hard-to-get.  How about you?”**

**“No, Spike.”**

**“Things are going to be very different.  You may not know it yet, but I have been generously lax during our engagement.  What’s that saying—that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone?  Well, once we become man and wife, you’ll see.  What you’ve gotten away with up till now—not so much after tomorrow, yes?”**

**“Yes.  Of course.”**

**“And even if you’re in your little moods and give me an attitude, that’s okay.  As you probably know by now, I have others—plenty of others—waiting in the wings who are more—willing and accommodating—participants.”**

**_Oh, yeah.  You make sure I know about that, don’t you?_**

**The time has come for me to break my silence.  “Do what you please.  You’re going to be my husband, after all, so I can’t stop you.  But if I find that you’re fathering babies behind my back or that you’ve given me some venereal disease, then I’ll sing like a canary!”**

**I state this with complete nonchalance before I turn and flounce, still in my birthday suit, out of the room.**

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

**Oh, Spike!  You’re really splurging on the wedding presents, aren’t you?**

**A Smash Ball necklace in Luigi’s colors?  How sweet of you, my darling!  And I thought you hated him!  I’m going to wear this to the ceremony tomorrow, and for the rest of my days!**

**Oh, my goodness gracious!  How did you know I’ve always wanted these dresses?  And they’re on sale, too!  My, my—you _do_ have an eye for women’s fashion.  Ooh—look at that!  Only the best designer pumps in Sin City!  Thank you so much, Spikey!**

**What’s this?  My very own Wii U console, along with _Super Smash Bros. for Wii U_ , _Mario Tennis: Ultra Smash_ , _Super Mario Maker_ and _Mario & Sonic at the Rio Olympic Games_?  And a Nintendo 3DS with Smash, _Dream Team, Paper Jam_ and _Dark Moon_?  And in green, too!  Wow, you really know how to spoil a girl, don’t you?**

**It’s also very nice of you to get me all of these CDs for the stereo you swear we’re going to get for our dream house.  These are all of my favorite jams.  I’ve listened to the music you like for so long that I almost forgot my own tastes.  But never again!**

**Aw, you don’t have to get me this perfume!  But if it’ll make you happy, then I’ll take it.  Oh, it smells nice, not unlike the loud stuff you spray all over my body.  Thank you so much, Spike!**

**Is that a Luigi hat?  My very own Luigi hat?  Why, for someone who hates Luigi so much, you’re buying me a whole lot of his memorabilia!  I’ve always wanted a Luigi hat, but my parents were so busy dissing on him and doting on my older sister, who’s so much better than me, that I never got one.  Until now.**

**Now these fashion ensembles I like.  They don’t make me feel self-conscious or like some ugly duckling or someone who traveled here in a time machine from the 1950s.  They’re modern and breezy and help me stand out from everyone else.  I’m a nonconformist, for goodness sake!  These clothes are definitely me!  Oh, Spikey—you’re taking a lot of liberties here!**

**A whole case of the finest champagne on the Strip?  For our honeymoon?  What a romantic you are!  I’m seriously considering taking back some of the things I’ve thought about you—or maybe I shouldn’t because you never knew I thought them, LOL!**

**What?  You have one last present for me?  Is it chocolate?  Ice cream?  An all-expenses-paid trip to the Caribbean?**

**OMFG awesomesauce!  A Jacuzzi?  My personal Jacuzzi!  Oh, Spike—you shouldn’t have!  You have made me the happiest of women!  I’ve always wanted a Jacuzzi more than I wanted a Smash Bros. game!  A nice place to unwind and relax and soothe my muscles after a long day of coming at your every beck and call.  I can see myself now, sitting in my brand-new Jacuzzi, sipping on my expensive champagne, as easy listening tunes play on the stereo.  Gee, Spike—you’re sparing no expenses with me, are you?**

**Hahahahaha.  See how _you_ like it, Spikey.  Having someone spend your money anytime it suits her.  Milking you dry, just like me—while barely allowing you to spend a dime.  Treating it like a child’s toy—to be used and used just because it pleases me.  Perhaps relieving you of some of that cash will knock you off your little pedestal.**

**What?  You play around with my bucks all the time—why can’t I return the favor?  And if you like flirting with other women in front of me—who says I can’t do some flirting, either?**

**“Pardon me, miss, but that is a lovely ensemble you’re wearing.  The hat, the shirt, the overalls and the shoes—work it!”**

**_“Thanks.  You’re a Luigi fan, too?”_**

**“Yes, and a big one at that.  Look, I’m getting married tomorrow, but do you have any free time at the moment?”**

**_“As a matter of fact, I do.”_**

**“Then may I interest you in a bite to eat?  I know a place near here, and they sell the best…”**


	45. Verdant Hope

              The Mushroom Kingdom and Sarasaland became crowded with rescued and escaped Luigi fans.  Peach and Daisy chose to stay behind to look after them, calling their best doctors to action.  As they helped these poor souls recover from what they’d been through, they discovered more pregnant women among them.  Some knew that Spike was the father.  Some knew that one of his entourage was the father.  But there were also some who had no clue who fathered their baby.  They all received top grade prenatal care and counseling, choosing not to abort.  They rationalized that the innocent life growing inside of them didn’t have to answer for what these creeps did.  And if push came to shove, then they knew some infertile women who spent their lives longing for a child.

              Personal and medical issues aside, these men, women and children were ready to assist their idol.  They passed along valuable information to him.  Snippets of conversations they overheard.  Important documents they managed to swipe and copy.  Coded messages they managed to decipher.  Important details about the wedding.  They detailed how they sometimes gave their tormentors false information to trip them up, how they kept secret diaries, and how they banded together to survive.  Finally, they verified Luigi’s long-standing suspicion—that Koopa had periodic access to them while he was still rallying for the man in green like the hypocrite he was.  They’d tried to send warnings of the turtle’s last stand to Daisy and Peach, but they were caught before they could do so.  Luigi wished he revived Koopa with a 1UP mushroom, just so he could end his game all over again!

              After catching up with his long lost fans, it was time for Luigi to continue his mission.  He promised those rallying behind him that Spike and his ilk would get his just desserts, and that Cerena would be free to make her own choices.  Peach and Daisy vowed to protect the fans with their lives during the plumber’s absence.  Before Luigi departed, they threw a good luck party for him and saw him off, cheering, as he leaped down a Warp Pipe back to Sin City.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              At the park, Kylie and Jacques were squealing their lungs out on the swings when Spike came over.  “Children,” he said, dead serious.

              The kids stopped their swings and stared up at their Uncle Spikey.  They’d never seen him like this before.

              “I’m taking you home,” announced Spike.  “Your father wishes to speak to you right away.  Gather your things and wait for me in my car.  And no talking.”

              Shoulders slumped, but Jacques and Kylie did as they were instructed.  Sitting in the backseat of the car, they exchanged wary looks.  Did this have something to do with the side trip to Sarasaland with their mother?

              A few minutes later, Spike, still stone-faced, got in the car, started the engine, and drove the kids to their house.  The fates had totally turned against the children now, for they managed to make every light and get to the residence in record time.  Kids as young as Kylie and Jacques had a sort of intuition that sensed if a parent was upset with them.  And right now, they were pinpointing all of the signs.

              Kylie and Jacques dragged their feet as Spike walked them to the front door.  Their father was already waiting for them.  Yet Spike didn’t offer any reassuring words like he normally did.  All he said was: “Claude, they’re all yours.”  Then, he turned and walked back to his car without looking back.

              Claude stepped aside so that his son and daughter could file in.

              “Kylie Gladys and Jacques Romeo,” Claude said in a calm voice.  “How nice of you to obey my summons in a timely manner.  Please, have a seat.”

              Oh, God.  Middle name.  Major red alert!  Jacques and Kylie lowered themselves onto a sofa, seeking to get as far away from their father as they could.

              “Don’t bother giving me those innocent looks, because you know why you’re here,” said Claude, getting down to business.  “What you’re facing, my lovely children, is the quite grievous charge of deliberate disobedience.  It’s my understanding that you and your mother made a little detour from LAX to Sarasaland, where Luigi and his friends filled your heads with lies about me.”

              Kylie narrowed her eyes.  “He’s never told a fib in his life,” she snapped.  “It’s _you_ who was filling our heads with lies!”

              Claude blinked.  “You’re in enough trouble as it is, _cherie_ ,” he said nonchalantly, “so, you shouldn’t talk anymore.  Jacques, is there anything you’d like to say?”

              Jacques pouted at his father.  “Mom was trying to help you, you know.”

              “Hmm.  How nice of her,” purred Claude.  “Perhaps I should thank her by taking her out to dinner tonight.

              “Now, where was I?  Oh, yes.  You and your mother made contact with Luigi, despite me warning you not to.  Did you not forget the bad influence he is with his disgraceful attitude toward his brother?”

              “That’s not true!  Luigi loves his brother!” Kylie blurted out.  “The only bad influence I see right now is you!”

              “I’m going to pretend that you didn’t just say that,” Claude said to his daughter.  “You want to know what really amuses me?  That you actually thought I wouldn’t find out about it.”  He laughed.  “As you know, there are no secrets in this family—and if they are, then I’ll eventually uncover them.  Like the hours you’ve spent playing Luigi games behind my back.  Like the fan letters you’ve written to him.  Like your diary entries and your conversations with your Uncle Spike, grumbling about how mean I am, telling you how to make friends.  For the nine years of your lives so far, I have kept you fed, clothed, clean, secure and in the know.  I have provided you the tools to aid you in making your own decisions.  I have tried to steer you toward the best lives possible.  And you spit in my face.”

              Yep.  Jacques and Kylie were definitely in trouble.

              “I have persuaded your darling mother to not only confirm what I just discovered, but also to produce the necessary evidence.”  Claude held up a bag similar to the ones they used in police dramas on TV.  “You want to know what’s in here?  _Luigi’s Mansion_.  It’s sequel, _Dark Moon_.  _New Super Luigi U._   All four games in the Smash Bros. franchise.  Luigi amiibos.  Luigi memorabilia.  Luigi plushies.  Luigi hats, clothes and toys.  Even Luigi backpacks for the school _I_ paid to send you to.  Wow—you sure showed me, didn’t you?”

              Persuaded their mother.  God.  Based on what they overheard from their mom’s conversation with Daisy and Luigi, the kids had some clue how.

              “This is my house.  I make the rules here.  And if I say that Luigi is a bad example, then Luigi is a bad example.”

              Kylie muttered something.  Whoa!  Daddy’s little girl decided at that moment that she had nothing to lose now, because Claude didn’t tolerate that kind of behavior.

              His voice shifted.  “I’m sorry, love.  Did you say something?”

              “No, Dad,” Kylie said, too quickly.

              “Your blatant violations of my rules is a severe offense which requires an equally severe punishment,” said Claude.  “That is, if I decide to administer it.”

              He paused as he allowed the words to sink in.  They might be kids, but his offspring knew that a price tag would be attached to his leniency.  And what a hefty price tag it would be—

              Claude went to the fridge, took out a can of soda, popped it open and took a sip, grinning at his daughter and son.  He could sense their imaginations hard at work in contemplating the words “severe punishment”.  They had been taught well.  And their days of carefree innocence were numbered.

              “And now that the cat is finally out of the bag, I’ll let you in on a little secret of my own,” cooed Claude.  “You two were fortunate enough to catch me in a very good mood.  Therefore, I’m going to let your disobedience slide this one time.  In exchange, you will surrender all of your gaming consoles, games, Nintendo-related paraphernalia and diaries.  You will also agree to cuts in your outdoor playtime and computer time and greater restrictions on the TV channels you access.  And Uncle Spike has arranged for you to be the flower girl and ring bearer, respectively, at his wedding tomorrow.”

              Kylie and Jacques nodded vigorously.  Anything was better than facing a punishment considerably worse than grounding.

              “I hope you understand that I’m offering you a free pass,” smiled Claude.  “Let it not be in vain.”

              After he sent them off to their rooms, Claude felt himself growing—excited—from the day’s discoveries.  He turned on his heel and strode to the master bedroom.

              The door closed after him.

              And the key turned in the lock.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Once Claude had completely and utterly satisfied himself, he assured his family that all was forgiven for now and that they’d discuss it later before returning to Las Vegas and retiring to his hotel suite.  After pouring himself a drink, he summoned his personal guards.

              “You’re all dismissed for the day,” he told them.  “Go home to your families and tell them how much you love and cherish them.”

              “Sir, we’re dealing with a massive security breach,” objected one guard.  “You’re still in danger.”

              “I promised him a fair fight,” said Claude, “so I shall give him one.  It has been a pleasure working with you.”

              The guards mumbled something along those lines before filing out.

              “Leave the door unlocked,” he called after them.

              Once his men had left, Claude shrugged out of his blazer, loosened a few buttons on his dress shirt and rolled up his sleeves.  He sat by the window, nursing his drink, and gazed out at the Vegas skyline.

              He didn’t have to wait long.

              Claude’s ears perked up at the sound of a room key disengaging the lock and the door clicking open.  Smoothly, he turned around to see Luigi entering the room alone, the room key in one hand.  He placed the key on a nearby table and smiled politely at Claude.

              “Nice to see you again,” he said calmly.

              “You, too,” replied Claude.

              Luigi was clad in a recently pressed white shirt, green overalls, a green hat and his usual work boots.  Claude could tell that he’d showered and shaved not too long ago.  The two men stood there quietly, staring each other down, Luigi drinking in Claude’s slightly unbuttoned shirt and the scent of his cologne, and Claude drinking in Luigi’s Fire Flower outfit and his blue, blue eyes.

              “It’s been a difficult day for you, I’m sure,” Luigi spoke up, rolling up his sleeves and allowing Claude to see the sports watch on his left wrist.  “Losing all of your ‘playthings’, finding out that your kids went behind your back to root for me, rehearsing the big speech you have to give as the best man for tomorrow’s wedding.”

              “How do you know all of that?” Claude wanted to know.

              “Oh, when someone’s out to hurt me, my brother or my Princess, I always find out everything about them,” said Luigi.  “Like how you reacted this afternoon to your family’s side-trip and your kids’ secret escapades.  Like the front you’d always put on for them, acting like everything’s okay after making some poor soul’s life miserable on Spike’s orders.”

              “Yes, I’m part of Spike’s network, but my actions were my own,” said Claude.  “He doesn’t order us around, you see.  He makes suggestions as to what we should do, but we help him plot his schemes.”

              “It doesn’t make what you’ve done any better,” said Luigi, feeling his anger come back.  “Tell me, were Daisy’s screams playing in your head when you were in bed with your wife?  Did you hear the cries of my young fans whenever you played with your children?  What about the pleas of the other men, women and children Spike had in his clutches?  And don’t bother lying to me, because when my friends and I rescued them, they told us what you, Spike and all of your buddies enjoyed doing to them!”

              “I assure you, Luigi, my intentions were strictly honorable,” sneered Claude.

              “Strictly honorable, you say?  What about the mothers-to-be who don’t know who to claim as their babies’ father?  What about those you forced to spy for them?  What about those you used as personal servants, punching bags and for your own perverse pleasures?  You call those honorable intentions?!”  Luigi’s eyes flashed as he spoke.

              “I was being sarcastic,” sniffed Claude, “and you know something?  The way you’re acting now is exactly why I tell my kids that you’re a negative influence.  All you have to do is accept your fate as a coward and a nobody, but no.  You have a hissy-fit when someone reminds you of your place.”

              “And when they found the courage to defend me and stand up to you, you threatened them,” Luigi broke in, remembering the terror he saw in those two kids as he eavesdropped via camera.  “Nice of you to let them off, though.  Was that your conscience kicking in at the last moment?”

              “They shouldn’t think they’ve aborted talking about their behavior,” Claude shot back.  “We’re still going to discuss it later tonight.”

              “Where you’ll carry out your threat,” snapped Luigi.  “Hooray for them, finally seeing you for the monster you are!”

              “You’re getting on my nerves,” warned Claude.

              “Really?” scoffed Luigi.  “Well, I have a knack for that.”

              Claude smirked.  “Not anymore.”

              He raised his fists and charged at Luigi.

              Big mistake.  If he’d been a seasoned Smasher, then he would’ve known.  But he was operating fully on emotion.  In contrast, Luigi stuffed his emotions aside, sidestepped the charge, and attacked his opponent with smash attacks to his side.  Claude yowled and swung blindly at him, but Luigi ducked every last punch and returned with harder ones to the abdominal region.  The man’s arms now cradled his stomach, leaving his face wide open.  Without wasting a second, Luigi began aiming his smash attacks there, spearing his hand right between Claude’s eyes and into his jaw, rearing back and viciously headbutting him and knocking him off of his feet with his breakdance attack.  As Claude struggled back up, Luigi put the pressure on with his fireballs until his foe ran at him again.

              Coolly, Luigi deflected the blow and smashed him in the face as hard as he could.  Claude reeled back, and the plumber pursued him relentlessly, punching and kicking and smash attacking.  As the fight began to move around the room, Claude grabbed a chair and started to swing it at Luigi.  He dodged, cartwheeled and backflipped just out of reach, grabbed Claude’s drink and hurled the liquid right into his face.

              “Lucky the drink and not the glass,” quipped Luigi as Claude screamed and wiped at his eyes, dropping the chair in the process.  Luigi picked it and broke it over Claude’s backside, sending him to the floor.

              Luigi followed him there and began tearing into Claude’s face with his fists.  “Is this what you were going to do to your kids?” he demanded.  “Is this how your persuaded Diane to give them up?”

              Claude responded with a kick which knocked Luigi backwards.  Luigi tried to crawl to safety, but Claude cut him off and repeatedly stomped onto his torso before yanking him to his feet and using a leg from the broken chair to mercilessly pummel him.  Colors swam before Luigi’s eyes, but he wasn’t going to surrender yet!  He sent a huge blast of green fire into Claude’s face, rolled away, and roundhouse kicked Claude straight in his already-injured jaw.

              “Are you proud of what you’ve done?” growled Claude as he rose to his feet.  “You have destroyed my family.  My wife is threatening to take the kids and leave me with nothing!  Life was going well until _you_ popped in!”

              “Your family was destined to be destroyed, thanks to your lies!” Luigi shot back, guard still up.  “You think something like this was going to stay bottled up forever?  You’re going to get exactly what you deserve, and you know it.”

              Claude roared and lunged, but Luigi had seen the move coming.  He leaped in the air, unleashing his karate chops and flip kicks, before nailing him with his downwards twirling kick.  The meteor smash drilled Claude painfully into the floor.  Blood poured out of his nose and mouth, globs of it traveling up his throat.  He was certain that his ribs were cracked or broken, and his face was swollen and smashed.  Luigi wasn’t unscathed, either, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle, thanks to his Mushrooms.  Acrobatically, Claude flipped himself up and unleashed a series of strikes which Luigi expertly parried and countered with superb body blows and a Cyclone.  Then, he caught Claude’s arm as it swung toward him and brutally wrenched it around.  The sound of snapping bones echoed hollowly throughout the room.

              “You’ll be sorry for that!” screamed Claude, but Luigi sent his fire into his adversary’s chest.  Claude hissed and backed away like a viper preparing to strike, clutching his broken arm.

              “You’re in no shape to hurt anyone anymore,” Luigi stated, knifing his hand into Claude’s burnt chest and then into his ribcage.  Claude screamed.

              “You know, I bet Diane is starting the divorce proceedings as we speak,” Luigi went on.  “So much for support and loyalty.”

              Claude kicked at Luigi, but he smoothly stepped aside and struck his shin with a heel kick.  He added with a short hop reverse dropkick, knocking Claude into a wall.  Plaster and paintings went raining down around him.

              “If she was here, then I don’t think she’d lift a finger to assist you,” said Luigi, sending a roundhouse kick into his foe’s chin, shattering it.  “On the contrary, she’d be cheering me on.”

              He knelt down, opened Claude’s shirt, and commenced to brand his skin with his fireballs as the bully pleaded with him to stop.

              “Bet you sound like _mia Princesa_ ,” murmured Luigi as he continued to burn Claude.  Once he was done burning his upper body, he singed his face up a bit before stepping back to admire his work.

              “Thing of beauty,” he smiled.

              Seconds later, Claude’s good fist slammed into Luigi’s face.

              As soon as he hit the ground, Claude grabbed onto his ankles to keep him from getting away and then climbed on top of him.  He sat on his chest and said with a bloody smile, “I told you I was going to pay you back.”

              Though he lost one fist, his remaining one seemed to have grown twice as powerful to make up for it.  Claude plunged that lone fist into Luigi’s face over and over, until his fingers were stained with blood.  Once his hand couldn’t take it anymore, he presently slid his belt from his pants and folded it over.

              “This is going to hurt,” he promised.  “A lot!”

              With a twist and jerk of his body, Luigi freed himself from the improvised pin and kicked Claude hard in the face.  Next, he forward smashed him in the arm, knocking the belt away, and pelted both face and body with relentless, vicious attacks.  Claude tried to defend himself, but the pain from his broken arm made his movements sluggish.  Luigi seemed to come at him from all directions; he was so nimble.  Eventually, Luigi seized him in a mighty grip and slammed him face-first against Claude’s entertainment center again and again until his gums were a pulpy mess.

              Claude laughed then, blood bubbling between his lips.

              “What’s so funny?” barked Luigi, straddling him once more.

              “I just want to say that it was worth losing my family!” crowed Claude.

              “What was?  Working with Spike?” spat Luigi.

              “You know what I’m talking about,” guffawed Claude.  “The night with those Princesses, completely disregarding their agony and discomfort and hitting you and your brother where it really hurts!”

              Luigi grabbed Claude’s windpipe, cutting off his laughter.  “You never truly loved your family, did you?  You were simply playing them into Spike’s hands, priming them to be his next victims—just like Cerena’s and Alessa’s parents!”

              “I wonder where you brother is, Luigi,” taunted Claude.  “I would’ve loved to tell him about the job I did on the ruler of the Mushroom Kingdom!  No matter, I’ll just talk about Daisy.  You know, she’s just like Cerena, playing hard to get!  We wish we’d grabbed you, too, so we could make you watch her body say ‘yes’ as she told us ‘no’!  The same goes for Mario, too!”

              “Well, guess what?” snapped Luigi.  “You will never touch either of our Princesses again—or your family!”

              On those words, Luigi fired an open hand stab at Claude’s neck.  He continued to assail the neck and windpipe with forward smashes until the gurgling noises stopped and the bully went limp against the entertainment center, his neck and face covered in blood.  Luigi stood up and offered one last kick as a parting shot, breathing heavily.

              “Good riddance,” he managed to say before taking his room key and walking out, slamming the door after him.

              Luigi had been correct when he told Claude that Diane was leaving him.  Cerena, via Zachary, had put Diane, Kylie and Jacques on an airplane bound for Nice, France.  They were beyond the reach of Spike and his cronies forevermore.

 

 


	46. Kyrie Eleison

              ’Twas the night before the wedding, and all through the Strip, everyone was reading Cerena’s new book.  Quiet outrage erupted as they discovered the days and nights of torment she had to endure and how her parents and sister encouraged Spike’s behavior.  They learned of secret conversations to manipulate the Smash Ballot results so that Daisy wouldn’t win.  It didn’t matter to Spike and his ilk which Ballot hopeful landed the last spot on the roster—as long as it wasn’t Daisy.  There were also tales of bombarding Nintendo with false accusations against Daisy and reasons why she didn’t deserve to be a Smasher, some of them similar to Marth’s snobby justifications.  Following Luigi’s initial purge of his tormentors last year, he’d finally found closure and peace of mind, and these people didn’t want that, did they?  Then, there were hints of her parents’ corrupt business practices and discriminatory policies, Spike’s corruption of the LVPD, among other unethical actions and the numerous plushies and toys destroyed.  In the appendix at the back, Spike’s victims gave their written testimony, including Alessa and Justine, the latter having finally contacted the man in green.  Though the groom-to-be didn’t know it, his hold on Sin City was slowly loosening.

              In a section of desert not far from the Strip, Spike’s buddies were conducting one last purge of all things Luigi before the big day.  Life-sized plushies, dolls, toys, stationery and all sorts of goodies were beaten, burned, destroyed and defiled.  Multiple effigies hung on cacti branches.  The conductors of this purge drank beer and blasted loud music well past curfew.  It was kind of like a bachelor party—without the strippers or the groom.

              Which occurs—where was the groom in the midst of this “revelry”?

              Well, he was currently stepping off the elevator and making a beeline for the room he shared with his bride-to-be.  It was as if everything around him had slowed down but also sped up at the same time—all five of his senses were amplified.  He’d stopped at the men’s room twice because his bowels were going crazy!  Sweat stood out on his face, and his heart thumped wildly.  Just as he was about to enter the suite, he once again fished out his cell phone to confirm that the text he received was true—how nice of his dearly beloved to give him ideas on how to spruce up their abode after their wedding!  However, there was one fatal flaw in her plan—she must’ve forgotten that his bank sent him text alerts regarding copious transactions!

              _No.  It can’t be true.  She wouldn’t have the nerve to do such a thing_ , he thought.  _She should’ve known what would happen if she even entertained the thought of pulling a stunt like this on me_.  He’d given her the benefit of the doubt millions of times before, but never again, never again!

              Spike unlocked the door and had just put one foot inside the room when he heard a familiar song playing at full volume, mocking him.  Just like that, all traces of denial wiped away as searing hate and rage took over his pit of a heart!  How would he ever forget this particular tune?  He’d made Cere scream so many times to it that he’d order it played at certain intervals just to rattle her.  But when he heard her having a ball, bringing a _woman_ into his domain and entertaining her with champagne in a Jacuzzi bought with _his_ money, to _that_ song, he completely lost it!  With a primal battle cry, he flung the door open and practically hurled himself into the room, giving both ladies the shock of their lives.

              The woman being entertained reacted quickly, darting out of the Jacuzzi and making a beeline for the door, only to find herself in the arms of another of Spike’s associates and unceremoniously hauled away.  Her screams were drowned out by those of Spike’s misbehaving fiancée as he pounced on her without a word of prelude.

              All of those clothes and all of that merchandise, some of it Luigi-related, bought on his dollars!  And right before their wedding day, too!  But wasn’t Spike a hypocrite, reacting like this to Cere’s actions when he’d spend her money here and there and openly flirt with women right in front of her?  Yes, he was, but according to his deluded logic, he was allowed to do such things, because this was his empire, not hers.  And now she had the audacity to romance this _girl_ , a Luigi fan by the looks of it, in his own room!

              He _did_ owe her thanks, though.  Before tonight, he never thought about having his fun in a Jacuzzi.  As it turned out, it was the perfect setting—perhaps they could conceive their child in one during their honeymoon!  And so he turned Cerena’s dream spa getaway into a glorious nightmare, that song still blaring from the sound system, getting all of his tension and anger out and mulling over what else she could be keeping from him.  It was after one in the morning when he was finally finished.  He kissed her sweetly and whispered, “See you at the altar, love.”

              And with that, Spike walked out, whistling, as if he’d accomplished a grand feat, leaving Cerena in a Jacuzzi filled with lukewarm water and blood and fluids.

              Yet she was smiling inside, for she knew she’d get the last laugh…

 

_Ten hours earlier…_

              When Cerena Cydney Sparks entered the airport terminal, she was promptly ushered into a private room, where Charlie, Courtney and Cypress waited for her.

              Even as an adult, she had a way of knowing that she was in for the high jump with her dear mom and dad.

              Zach sat slightly off to the side.  Even at this distance, Cere could tell that her brother-in-law had been badly beaten.  This welcome was going to be far from warm.

              “Hello, my dear sister,” said Cypress.  “I believe you and Zach are quite familiar with each other.”

              “Well, duh,” eyerolled Cere.  “We’re in-laws.”

              “Don’t be a wiseacre,” warned Courtney.  “You’re in enough trouble already.  Please, have a seat.”

              Cere plunked herself down in an open chair.  “To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked.

              Cypress decided to be the spokesperson in this matter.  “What you’re facing, sis, is the egregious charge of high treason.  It was you who led Luigi and his friends right to Spike, with Zach serving as your messenger boy.  You have been nurturing a secret bank account, keeping prospective financial assets from your husband-to-be.  You have created, sold and marketed your own hair-care product without our knowledge or approval.  And it was you who drew up the documents to try and lock Spike out of the company and bar him from accessing your money.”

              Cere’s heart stopped beating, and she was mortified when she found herself wetting her pants, something she hadn’t done since she was a toddler.  She had no idea how, but her family had found out of her plan and were determined to put a stop to it.

              “It was you,” Cypress went on, “who gave Luigi and his ilk copies of the room keys to free those troublemakers in Spike’s custody as well as to access his hotel suite.  It was you who wrote those mean Tweets about Spike in countless languages under those multiple accounts.  You also made reprehensible revisions to your last will and testament, denying not only Spike but also your poor family their rightful share of your inheritance and estate.”

              Cypress felt herself growing angrier as she spoke.  It was one thing when she and her parents discovered their black sheep’s latest stunt.  But then, they’d quickly figured out _why_!  This scheme was part of a larger scheme to run out on Spike and the rest of the family and to leave them holding the bag!  To “teach them a lesson”.  And to add insult to injury, she was going to offer her inheritance to sympathizers of that ungrateful man in green!

              “And not only that,” concluded Cypress, still in a calm voice, “you have also arranged to have your fiancé _arrested_ on his wedding day, in front of God and everyone.”

              Some basic instinct had warned Cerena that her folks were well aware of her motive in doing all of this.  She had no idea which was going to get her into more trouble: the what or the why.

              “We were going to find out about this sooner or later,” Charlie piped up.

              “So it might as well have been sooner,” said Courtney.

              “And don’t get me started on the ‘tell-all’ novel that the citizens of Las Vegas have their noses buried on, slowly poisoning their minds against poor Spike,” Cypress said smartly.  “Wow—you must really hate us.”

              “It was about time you figured that out,” shrugged Cere.

              “How could you do this after everything we’ve done for you?” Courtney demanded of her daughter.

              “And what might that be?” challenged Cere.  “From what I recall, you’ve done more things _to_ me than _for_ me.”

              “It was for your own good, Cere,” justified Charlie.  “We were saving you from yourself.  I guess we failed in that department.”

              “Oh, and in case you’re wondering, my parents and I have persuaded my traitorous, soon-to-be-ex-husband to give us all of the facts,” smiled Cypress.

              Persuaded, huh?  Cere could see how.

              “We have a team of translators working on those Tweets you sent right now,” said Courtney.  “There are copies of the documents you drew up to lock Spike out of the company and turn him into a pauper, along with us.  There are chat transcripts detailing conversations with the exact girls we prohibited you from making contact with, and Zach was nice enough to cough up copies of the notes you sent to Luigi.  We’ve also procured investment returns on your product, statements for your secret bank account, surveillance footage, audio and video—and your diary.  What we possess is irrefutable proof of your intentions to throw us all under the bus.  No doubt, Spike is going to have tons of fun with you once he finds out about this—should we be in a divulgatory mood.  You know what they say—no one likes a tattletale.”

              “If you’re hungry for hush money, then don’t even think about it,” growled Cere.

              “What makes you think we’re after money?” Cypress shot back.  “We already have enough of that.”

              Cere had lost full control of her bladder by now.  If her folks were being generous enough to offer her a way out, then she knew they expected something in return.  She could only imagine what they would want as collateral.

              Cypress turned to Zach.  “Have fun explaining yourself to the kids,” she said, “because as soon as I walk through that door, you’re dead to them—and to me.”

              “Yes,” Zach said simply, and hiked out of the room fast.

              Cypress watched him go before turning back to her sister—not so Miss Independent anymore now that her family had something to hold over her head!  Cerena glared defiantly at her folks, yet they could smell something which belied her true feelings—urine.  Charlie and Courtney’s rebellious daughter was now peeing on herself.  Spike had done his job well—he’d broken his fiancée and made her his creature—or so they thought.

              You see, the terror and the peeing was all an act.  Getting them to lower their guard and to think that she’d finally accept her destiny after all of these years.  The truth was that Cerena had seen this coming.  She’d known of the chance of Spike or her family stumbling across her scheme.  That was where Plan B came in.

              Charlie, Courtney and Cypress weren’t aware of this.  All they knew was that the spitfire sitting across from them needed to be punished for attempting to dethrone her fiancé—and them.

              “Nobody pulls a fast one on us and gets away with it,” Cypress said, rising to her feet.  “The jig is up, baby sis.  You’re finished.  Spike is going to gain wind of this, and you’ll be subject to a fate worse than death—unless your dear family sees fit to forgive the past and save you.”

              She walked over to Cere, her thighs brushing against the younger woman’s bosom.  “Would you like to be saved, Cere?”

              “Yes,” Cere replied tonelessly.

              “Then listen closely.  The wedding is tomorrow, and we don’t want any uninvited guests roaming around.  And as for that book—it had better by out of this city by midnight.”

              Cere shook her head and smirked.  “You’re too late,” she gloated.  “My tell-all is already on the way to best-seller status.  And we all know that Luigi and his friends won’t be chased out of here that easily.”

              “Then it’s up to you to persuade them to leave, since you’re so close to them.  Or spend the rest of your days at Spike’s mercy.  Don’t worry—the ceremony tomorrow will be a huge success.  We’ll join Spike’s buddies in walking you through the whole shebang.  But first,” Cere opened her arms, “how about a hug?  It’s been a long time, after all.”

 

_Present_

              “There he is!” hooted the revelers as Spike walked in on the unconventional bachelor party.

              “Sorry I’m late,” apologized Spike.  “I had to deal with a little emergency.”

              “Was your fiancée acting up again?” asked a man.

              “I found her in my room, getting intimate with another woman in a Jacuzzi, the two of them downing champagne—all of it bought using _my_ money,” explained Spike.

              “No way!” yelled the revelers.

              “I hope she gets that garbage out of her system while she still can,” intoned Spike, “because I’m not putting up with it anymore.”

              “Amen to that,” grumbled another man.

              “C’mon, Spike!  This is your night!” cried a reveler standing by a pile of plushies, video games and toys.  “Don’t waste it talking about your bride-to-be’s shenanigans!  Let’s cut loose and have some fun!”

              “Good idea,” said Spike, striding over to the pile.  “You guys ready?”

              “Yeah!”

              “Then let’s get this party started!” hooted Spike.

              The men doused the pile of destroyed merchandise in gasoline, and then Spike lit it ablaze with his cigarette lighter.  They whooped, cheered, danced and toasted around the giant pyre, even dragging in more plushies to tear up and incinerate.  So drunk were they that they didn’t notice the danger right under their noses—a single pair of blue eyes glaring at them from the brim of a familiar green hat.

              It was just after 3:30 a.m.  The guys had finally grown tired of burning plushies and were now standing for group photos.  Despite being intoxicated, the designated photographer, had a very precise aim.  Spike and his company struck goofy poses and clowned around before finally calming down for a proper group portrait.

              “All right.  Give me a big smile,” said the photographer before snapping a few pics.  Then, he frowned.  “What is _that_ doing in my background?”

              Everyone turned.

              “I don’t see anything,” murmured one reveler.

              “Probably a cricket or something,” shrugged Spike.  “Carry on.”

              But the photographer shook his head.  “That was no _cricket_.  And it wasn’t any other nightcrawler, either.  It was something—green.”

              “Wait.  Did you say green?” asked Spike.

              “Yeah, like some sort of _cap_ ,” replied the photographer.

              Spike’s eyes widened.  “Oh, my God!”

              Without warning, sheets of green fire lit up the desert night.  Men screamed as they were swept up into the blazing heat, rolling about on the ground to salvage their clothes and skin.  Seconds later, a familiar figure scuttle-jumped out of the bushes and attacked them! 

              “We must get going, sir!” shouted a bodyguard, he and his comrades hustling Spike into a waiting car.  The driver jammed his key into the ignition, to no effect.

              “It’s not starting!  It’s not starting!” he shouted frantically.

              Spike glanced out the car’s window as his friends did battle against the figure, swinging fists, beer bottles and whatever they could find at him.  It was no use.  There was too much booze in their systems.  The green-clad intruder easily dodged and slid his way through haphazard fists and glass as he smashed his blows into intoxicated bodies.  Part of him knew he shouldn’t have come alone, but he was so _furious_.  After what they’d done so far, they though burning those plushies was some sort of _bachelor party_?  And the groom was allowed to cut loose, but not the bride?  That just didn’t seem right!  A fist into the stomach of one man sent him doubling over, spewing his guts onto the desert floor.  Luigi jumped clear of the puke, send a spearhand thrust into the side of the man’s neck and then held his face in the mess as he pummeled his back.  Another man rushed toward him, arms outstretched, and was met with a flip kick to the face, knocking out several teeth.  Leaving the first man in his own vomit, Luigi set upon his would-be attacker, brutally battering his face before forward smashing his stomach until he, too, puked.  The plumber then turned him over and attacked his shoulder blades with punches and smashes, and then he went back to the other man and did the same to him.

              “Get down!” the bodyguards ordered Spike before jumping out and dashing to the rescue.  “Stay here!”

              By the time they got there, quite a few of Spike’s buddies were motionless on the ground.  Luigi was now dealing with five men at once, holding them off with such expertise that one bodyguard was wetting himself out of fear.  He ducked, he dodged, he weaved and he struck with frightful precision.  The Cyclone proved to be too much for them, knocking all five in different directions.

              “Now!” shouted one bodyguard, and they all rushed for Luigi.

              Meanwhile, the driver was still trying to start the car.  “Come on!” he growled.

              Luigi attacked the first bodyguard with a Super Jump Punch, but the second took advantage of his helpless falling state, kicking him in the jaw and then smashing him hard in the mouth.  The other bodyguards hauled him to his feet and joined the second bodyguard in using him as a punching bag.  But Luigi broke free with a twist and felled them with another Cyclone, sharply kicking them as they struggled to get up.  Then, Luigi approached the second bodyguard, grabbed him, swung him around three times and tossed him away.  The first bodyguard stomped toward him, sporting a busted jaw, but Luigi forced him backwards with short hop f-airs and pinned him against a cactus, where he assailed the jaw again before going for the other jaw.  Finally, Luigi spun him around and rammed his face, chest and stomach into the cactus.  The rough, spiny hide of the cactus muffled the bodyguard’s cries.

              The third bodyguard pulled out a walkie-talkie and snapped it on, but Luigi knocked it out of his hands and crushed it beneath his boots.  Pale and ashen, the remaining bodyguards apologized on Spike’s behalf and begged for mercy, their bowels as well as bladders loosening.  Luigi looked at the bodyguards, as if contemplating their pleas.  Then, his face darkened.

              “You think that ‘sorry’ is going to fix the lives of my fans?” he challenged.  “You think Spike deserves my forgiveness after what he’s done?”

              “We can change!” whined one bodyguard.  “We’ll never do such things again!  We swear it!”

              “You always say that,” snapped Luigi, “and as soon as my back is turned, you break that promise!  Why should I believe you now?”

              “I—I…” the bodyguard stammered before Luigi closed the distance between them and slammed an uppercut into him, launching him skyward.

              “Forget them!” hissed Spike.  “I’m out of here!”

              He sneaked out of the car and disappeared into the night.

              “Spike!” hissed the driver.  “Spike!”

              But he was gone.

              Meanwhile, the remaining bodyguards could only pray aloud as Luigi crouched down, charged himself up, and rocketed himself into their midst.

              When the driver saw the smoldering figures of the bodyguards fly off into the distance, he, too, abandoned the car and ran.

              Luigi stood, dusted himself off and smiled.  His work here was done.  He summoned a Warp Pipe and returned to the Strip.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              The next morning, it was as if the disastrous bachelor party never happened.  Spike was in good spirits, standing at the altar dressed in a tuxedo with a daisy (how ironic) on his lapel.  Wedding guests filed in dressed in all of their pomp, and party music played over the loudspeakers.  Not exactly the traditional wedding.  Zachary, the best man, stood with a smile plastered on his face, accompanied by the groomsmen.  Spike closed his eyes and allowed himself to picture Cerena walking down the aisle towards him, arm-in-arm with her father, wearing the beautiful wedding gown he picked for her and smiling lovingly at him.  This was it, the day when he’d finally get everything he desired—a wife, a share of the company, and an heir on the way.

              But alas, that was not to be.  Moments before the ceremony was about to begin, a man rushed into the chapel.  “Spike!” he called.  “It’s bad news.  Cerena has escaped!”

              The congregation gasped.

              “What?” balked Spike.

              “She’s nowhere in the dressing room, sir,” explained the man.  “She’s gone!  And she left this note!”

              Spike snatched away the proffered piece of paper and read:

_Dear Poophead,_

_By the time you read this, I will be far, far away.  I DO NOT love you, I NEVER WILL be attracted to you, and I have NO intention of marrying you.  Since you can’t get that through your thick skull, all of those cocktail weenies, bagel bites, shrimp cocktails, mini-sandwiches and that giant wedding cake are going to waste this fine morning.  Oh, and don’t even think about trying to find me._

_Have fun crying a river in the corner somewhere!_

_XOXO,_

_Cerena Cydney Sparks_

              “Well, why are you just standing there?” Spike barked at the man.  “Get moving, you idiot!  I’ll find her!”  He ripped Cerena’s mocking note into strips.  “I’ll find her if I have to tear all of Vegas apart!”

             

 

               


	47. Sweet Escape

              Spike sat in the lobby of the wedding chapel, fuming.  This was _not_ how he’d planned things at all.  He was supposed to get married, go on his honeymoon and prepare for the birth of his successor, not waiting for news on his runaway bride!  Oh, there was going to be retribution.  She was going to pay.  The things he was going to do once she was back in his clutches---

              “Sir?” said a voice, snapping him out of his thoughts.

              “Yeah?” he replied curtly.

              “I’m afraid we’ve combed through the Strip entirely, but she’s not there,” sighed the associate.

              “Did you check the bus terminal or the airport?”

              “Yes, sir.  It’s like she disappeared without a trace.”

              “Well, keep looking,” ordered Spike, “and when you find her, nobody touches her till I get there.”

              “Yes, sir.”  The man popped back out again.

              Cypress appeared then, a sympathetic look on her face, and offered him a glass of champagne, which he accepted with a smile.

              “I never thought my little sis would do this,” she said cryptically.  “Then, again, I never really knew my sister, did I?”

              “Neither of us really knew her,” said Spike.  “I thought she’d be so fun to break.”

              “You know, Spike,” smiled Cypress.  “Your enemies are closer than you think.”

              “Luigi and his friends set up an ambush?” gasped Spike.  “Oh, dear!  We’ve got to evacuate!”

              “That’s not what I’m talking about, Spike,” said Cypress.  “I wanted to tell you this before the ceremony, but I got tangled up in the preparations, and then there was that dust-up at your bachelor party, and now…”  She cleared her throat.  “You remember that thing I was going to talk to you about when my parents and I flew in yesterday?”

              “Yeah?  What about?”

              “Well, that’s what I mean when I say that you have enemies closer to you than you’ve ever imagine,” teased Cypress.  “Just think about it, Spike.  Who else could’ve passed along valuable information to Luigi?  Who else knew where those troublemakers were stashed?  Who else knew the inner workings of your genius mind?  Who else did you keep in your sights 24/7?  Who else could’ve led that man in green right to your doorstep?  I’m telling you—he didn’t do this alone.  He obviously had help from an inside man—or woman.”

              “You’re not suggesting that…?”

              “Suggesting?!  I have proof!” exploded Cypress.  “Your fiancée, Cerena Sparks, left a bread crumb trail leading Luigi right to you.  Your bride-to-be, Cerena Sparks, gave him and his friends copies of the room keys for the Luigi fans in your custody.  Your betrothed, Cerena Sparks, set in motion a chain in events which would culminate in your arrest at the altar.  Your destined wife, Cerena Sparks!”

              “I should’ve known,” murmured Spike.

              “But wait!  There’s more!” sang out Cypress.  “Not only did she deny you your share of our company stock, but also she barred you from accessing her bank accounts, opened up a secret account for the sole purpose of funding this escape and supplemented these funds by creating and investing in her own hair-care product.  And guess who served as her loyal sidekick and messenger boy along the way?  That’s right—your own best man!  DINGDINGDINGDING!”

              “Your own husband,” moaned Spike.  “Cypress—I’m so sorry.  If there’s anything I can do…”

              “Don’t worry.  I took care of him.  A quickie divorce and sole custody of the kids.  He’s going to die alone, poor and miserable!”

              Spike nodded.  “I’m proud of you,” he gushed, “but right now, our focus needs to be on getting to Cerena before she spills.”

              “If she hasn’t already,” sighed Cypress.  “I forgot to mention one important thing—yesterday, she published a tell-all, and it’s spreading like wildfire!  Everyone from coast to coast is eating it up!”

              “And they believe her?!”

              Cypress nodded solemnly.  “It’s clear that this plan was right under our noses,” she groaned, “and it slipped right under our radar.  If we hadn’t caught Zach…”

              “Where is he now?” Spike sharply demanded.

              Together, they burst back into the chapel and searched among the well-dressed guests.  Zach must’ve slipped out during the confusion brought along by the news of Cere’s escape!

              “I wish I’d never married him!” roared Cypress.

              Spike’s cell phone rang, and he stepped aside to answer it.

              “Hello?”

              “Spike, this is Galleom.  I—I can’t do this anymore.  I want out.”

              “Look, pal,” spat Spike.  “I’ve already had my bride walk out on me, and I’m not losing anyone else!”

              “You don’t understand,” Galleom went on.  “Duon turned straight and has enough to corroborate Cerena’s story.  Quaz is in witness protection.  And tormenting innocent people, day after day because they like someone you think is a loser—it was fun at first, but it’s become too extreme for me.  It’s messing me up, man.”

              “You’ve got no choice in this matter, Galleom.  No choice at all.”

              “Well, what choice do _you_ have, Spike?” challenged Galleom.  “Everyone under your thumb, either by bribery or by force, is turning against you!  The truth is coming out, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it!  Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide!”

              “What foolish talk is this?!” roared Spike.

              “There’s a warrant out for your arrest, Spike!” Galleom was practically screaming.  “These—videos—of you have been uncovered!  In one of them, you and some cronies were beating up a disabled kid.  In another, you were bribing police officers to look the other way and join up with you.  There are many of them showing you stalking Luigi fans and grabbing them off the street.  There’s surveillance footage of you storming popular hangouts of Luigi fans, as well!  They’ve got video recordings of you burning plushies, viciously attacking people in broad daylight and _laughing_ about it, and don’t get me started on what they saw you doing to your fiancée as well as your so-called ‘prisoners’!  They’ve even got Koopa and Claude’s latest stunt!  You didn’t approve of it, but it’s still gonna trace back to you!  We’ve got women coming forward, pregnant by you or one of their associates!  It’s some pretty sick stuff, Spike, and it’s all over the news!”

              Spike screamed a curse and threw his phone across the room.  Cerena had done it.  She’d turned Galleom and Duon against him before turning in state’s evidence!  And this time, no bribery in the world could save him, now that everyone could see him for the monster he truly was!  So long, power!  So long, privilege!  And he knew how the other guys in the yard would treat bullies like him!  Dealing with Luigi was starting to look better in comparison.

              He raced out of the chapel to make a break for it, only to be confronted by wailing sirens, flashing lights and a police blockade.

              Val smiled at the busted bully.  “Going somewhere?” he asked.

              “But—how…?” spluttered Spike.

              “Looks like your dearly beloved gave you up,” shrugged Val.  “She told us everything, even the fact that her folks knew what you were doing to her and actually encouraged it.  And by the way, the SEC is on their way to nail both you and them for unethical business practices.  Now, if you’d kindly come with us?”

              Spike snarled and swung at Val.  The P.I. ducked and calmly felled his attacker with a shot to the stomach.  It had briefly given him the upper hand during his initial spar with Luigi.  Today, it saved his life.

              “Now, that’s not going to help your case, is it?” he chided as he slapped the cuffs onto Spike’s wrists.  Spike could only watch as the Nevada State Police, the SEC and the FBI stormed into the chapel and arrested all of his associates, along with Charlie, Courtney and Cypress.

              “Mr. O’Halloran?”

              Val turned.  “Yes?”

              A cool, sophisticated-looking woman with short-cropped hair stood before him and flashed her badge.  “Agent Ferdinand, FBI,” she introduced herself.  “We’ll take it from here.”

              Val heaved a sigh of relief.  “They’re all yours.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              In a small church just off the Strip, the congregation was bearing witness to a miracle.  The sister of the deceased walked slowly up to the coffin, tears in her eyes.  Beside her walked her young nephew, solemn and well-behaved, as if understanding the somberness of the occasion.  The mourning sister held a familiar green-and-white mushroom in her hands, people craning their necks to look at it.  Perhaps the deceased was a fan of Super Mario, and this was the sister’s final act of affection.

              The woman stopped at the casket and peered down to where her twin sister lay, the traces of her violent death wiped away and a look of peaceful resignation on her lovely face.  She’d spent days trying to figure out how to explain this to her nephew and facepalmed when the idea came to her.  Now that Koopa was gone and Spike had been arrested, her sister was entitled to an extra life.

              Justine took a deep breath.  “This is for you, sis,” she said before placing the 1UP Mushroom on her sister’s chest.

              It dissolved to a familiar chord, a green 1UP floating into the sky.  Slowly, the woman in the casket stirred.  Her eyelids fluttered, and she moaned.  The congregation was stunned.  Surely, they were imagining things!

              Then, Christine Mulligan sat up in her own casket.  The would-be mourners went nuts.

              “Where am I?” she asked sleepily.  “Why does my head hurt?  Who died?”

              “Mommy!” squealed Todd.

              “Hey, sweetie,” cooed Christine.  Justine picked up her nephew and placed him in her sister’s arms.

              “Welcome back to the land of the living, sis,” smiled Justine, tears in her eyes.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              In an undisclosed location, Cerena Sydney Sparks, minus her engagement ring, was being pampered like a princess.  After Evelyn washed and styled her hair just the way she liked it, she treated her to one of the best mani-pedis of her life.  Then, a Mii came in and gave her a facial, followed by a luxurious body wrap.  Now, she lay in a heavenly bubble bath, a glass of mimosa in her hand, drinking in the good news.  Her no-good fiancé and her no-good family had finally been exposed!  They were in the police station, awaiting not only state charges but also federal charges and charges from the SEC.  It was even hinted that all of their assets would be seized and given to her—in exchange for her full cooperation, of course.  She leaned back, sipping occasionally, mulling over the many things she planned to do with her freedom.  Yet she had to admit, having her free will back was something she needed to get used to.

              “Cerena?”

              Cere’s turned her head toward Evelyn’s perky voice.  “Yeah?”

              “I hope you’ve been good, because there’s someone here to see you!” Evelyn sang out.

              “If it’s you-know-who, then I have to get dressed,” said Cerena.

              “You’ll see him later, silly!” giggled Evelyn.  “I’m talking about someone else.  Someone you hadn’t seen for a long time.”

              “Who?”

              A familiar, olive-skinned woman wearing a bathrobe and sandals approached her, a martini in her hand.  Cerena’s eyes nearly popped out of her skull.  “Alessa!”

              “Cerena,” Alessa sighed softly.  “Thank God you’re safe.”

              “Thank God we can see each other again,” smiled Cerena.  “Are you going to testify?”

              “Darn right I am?  You?”

              Cerena nodded.  “Lauren, Melody, Susan, Connie, Ronnie and the others—are they okay?”

              “I think so,” breathed Alessa.  “They’re talking about reviving the club, now that your tyrannical parents are headed for the slammer.”

              “Great minds think alike,” beamed Cerena.  “Has Lauren—mentioned me?”

              “Yeah, but—since your parents forced you to break off contact…”

              “…she met someone else,” finished Cere, resigned.

              Alessa nodded.  “Hey, mind if I join you in there?”

              Cere jerked a nod.  “C’mon in—the water’s fine.”

              Alessa kicked off her sandals and slid off her robe.  She’d changed greatly since high school.  Probably spent whatever free time they gave her in the sun, working out at whatever gym they directed her to.  Cerena forced herself to stop thinking about her past as she gawked at Alessa’s curvaceous frame cautiously stepping into the bubble bath.  Alessa closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure at the caress of the bubbles.

              “I haven’t had one of these for a long time,” she confessed.

              “Me, neither,” smiled Cere.  She held up her mimosa.  “Here’s to a fresh start.”

              “Cheers,” said Alessa as they clinked glasses.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              “So, he’s gone?” asked Christine as she and Justine drove away from the church.

              “Yup, felled by the Mario Bros.,” said Justine.

              “And Spike and his other accomplices—they’re in custody?”

              “Uh-huh.  Some of the accomplices claim that Spike forced them into this.  The only people he coerced to work for him were those Luigi fans.”

              “What of Cerena?”

              “She’s safe.  Gave him up, actually.  On their wedding day.”

              Christine laughed.  “Burn!”

              “Just wait till she learns that he’s gonna be a father to God-knows-how-many kids!”

              “No way!” balked Christine.  “He cheated on her?!”

              Justine grimaced.  “If you could call it that.  He flirted with women in front of her.  But some of his prisoners that were rescued…”

              “Oh, God,” gasped Christine, catching her sister’s meaning.  “Just wait till I show up and surprise everybody.  I can’t wait to see the look on Spike’s face!”

              “You saw him?”

              “Nope, Koopa did the deed, but I just bet he gloated to Spike about how he took care of a potential spy!”

              The sisters laughed.

              They continued to converse and listen to tunes for a few miles.  Suddenly, the road became increasingly bumpy.

              “Whoa!” cried Justine as she pulled over, stopped the car and cut the engine.

              “Yikes, did you take a wrong turn or something?” gasped Christine.  “It doesn’t feel like we’re on the road anymore.”

              Cautiously, they stepped out of the car.  Sure enough, they weren’t on a paved road, but on a dirt road—and a bumpy one at that.  While looking around, Justine tripped on something and fell on her butt.

              “Sis!” Christine rushed over to help the other woman up and tripped, as well.

              They scrambled up to see exactly what they’d tripped over.  At first glance, they appeared to be huge mounds.  But as they peered closer, they realized with dawning horror that these mounds were close to the size and shape of a human—

              Justine tried not to throw up.  “Call 9-1-1,” she instructed her sister.

              “I’m on it!” shouted Chris, already dialing her phone.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Back in the undisclosed location, Cerena and Alessa were in intimate converse.  For some reason, Cere found herself drawn to her second love all over again.  Was it because they’d been through so much?  Or the fact that Alessa had escaped in time to help her lead Luigi to the rest of Spike’s prisoners?  Back in high school, she’d been mildly jealous of Melody holding a high position in the secret Luigi fan club, but they must’ve talked things out since then.  In order to survive the days of torture, they must’ve had to.

              And now that Lauren, her prom date and her first time, had moved on with her life—maybe it was best that she did the same.

              Unfortunately, the moment was interrupted by Evelyn’s voice.

              “Hey, Cere!” she called.

              “What is it, Evelyn?”

              Cerena Cydney Sparks could hardly contain her delight at Evelyn’s next words:

              “The mustachioed man in green will see you now!”

             

 


	48. Interlude: Thinking About Them Again

**_Luigi’s POV_ **

**The woman sitting across from me has been pinned down and oppressed for most of her life, yet she still hangs on to her vitality.  I’m amazed at her ability to retain an optimistic view of things, to be so full of love and life after the nightmare with Spike and her parents.  When hearing about her, I half-expect her to squeal excitedly or faint like a prima donna.  But her manner is quite composed—the way she holds out her hand to introduce herself and how addresses me as “sir” before I assure her that formalities are not quite necessary.  By and by, she loosens up and tells me how she engineered her escape after her folks discovered Plan A.**

**It had been the night before the wedding.  Cerena had bought herself a Jacuzzi, among other things, with Spike’s money after cutting him off from hers.  She had also brought another lady along, and they were getting intimate in the Jacuzzi when Spike walked in on them.  The other woman was punished by an associate, while Spike had punished his fiancée.  Once he’d left and Cere had pulled herself together from the assault, she’d packed a few suitcases, made some phone calls and waited until the next morning, when she was in the chapel’s dressing room and everyone else was distracted, to make her clean getaway.  The police, including Val, received all sorts of goodies from her—documents, tapes, videos, itineraries and journal entries and more.  While Val led the raid on the chapel, Cere had been escorted to the station and interviewed, and then Evelyn arrived and took her to this top-secret location.**

**She’s thankful to me for arriving in Vegas, for my presence had given her the strength to finally stand up to Spike and her family and give them what they deserved.  I’m rewarded with an autographed copy of her tell-all novel, and to return the favor, I autograph her copy of _Dark Moon_.  She wants to start playing her new games right away, but I know she’ll be called upon to testify at Spike’s trial.  Hence why she’s here for the time being.**

**Cere and I continue our discussion over “lotsa spaghetti”, where she finally gets out all of her hate and contempt for the people who did this to her.  I find myself gripping my fork tightly, enraged that a family can be so intolerant and repressive.  I come from a loving and encouraging family, and the only thing they didn’t tolerate was laziness.  The fact that the mother, father and sister put this poor woman down just because she was different, basically throwing her to the sharks to get rid of her, makes me ill.  I hope I’ll get to testify so I could give them all a piece of my mind.  Once her rant is over, she talks to me about her hobbies, her plans to reassemble her fan club and the fact that she’d never stopped hoping, even as the years had dragged by.  Her faith touches my heart.**

**We finish our meal, and Cere feels tired.  I don’t blame her for wanting to rest after all of this.  Luckily, a bedroom has already been furnished for her, with cabinets to store her games and music, a closet for her clothes, a flatscreen TV, a bathroom—even a kitchen.  She flops onto the king-sized bed without even taking off her clothes and settles onto her side.  For the first time in her life, she’ll sleep well.**

**With Cere’s escape, the rescue of my fans, Christine’s return from the dead and Spike’s arrest, I find myself with some time on my hands.  The world around me has quieted down, the storm within me has lifted, for a while, at least.  I’m still so angry with Spike for what he’s done, and his downfall only destroys a link in this network of bullies.  But now that there’s a lull in the action, I have time to think.**

**I think about Master Hand, Crazy Hand and Master Core, hoping that they’re okay.  Despite my phone calls to them and my brief return to lead the march for the victims of the Orlando disaster, we still didn’t part on very good terms.  They still knew that Daisy didn’t win the Smash Ballot and withheld that information from me.  They still acted like I was the bad guy when I took action against my tormentors.  And I’ve tried again and again to let them handle it, but after the episode with Mewtwo, Pittoo and Kyle—it seems that the bullies don’t listen to those three, regardless of how powerful they are.  So, I decided that from now on, I’d handle those making my life miserable on my own terms.  My trip so far has uncovered atrocious happenings the three final bosses apparently missed.**

**Yet I can’t help but feel awful.  I only departed with a few words to my fellow Smashers, only confessing to them after the fact.  Some of them took advantage of the Smash Con in Vegas to help me, and now look what happened!  I put quite a few in danger!  If I want to make this right, I must see Spike be put where he rightfully belongs, and if he escapes, I’ll finish him myself before he hurts or bullies someone else!**

**I feel awful, too, because the increasingly dire situation has caused everyone back in the Smash universe to fret over me.  Poor Master Hand—he’s probably sick out of his mind with fear!  Fear that I’ve been hurt or—I should’ve told him that I was going to leave and why I was going to leave.  But I acted on a rash impulse, upset and confused and convinced that he’d never understand how I feel.  Why they saw fit to peek at my Miiverse profile and open up old wounds regarding past tier lists—I’ll never know.**

**Sitting here, I feel the urge to call everyone up right now and tell them that the worst of the danger has passed, that Spike is in police custody and that Cere’s testimony will lock him up and throw away the key.  I want to tell them that I’m okay, that I’m alive, and that I’m sorry for worrying them so.  But most of all, I want to talk to Master, Crazy and MC, to hear their voices, to hear them tell me that they forgive me for acting on my impulses and losing my temper with them.  It wasn’t the first time I’ve quarreled with them, but I just think bullies like Spike, Koopa, Claude, Tristan, Budd, Kyle, Pittoo, Mewtwo, Marth, Stuart Bennigan and the others don’t deserve leniency.  No matter what they tell others, they’ll never change.  They’ll always be bullies, and they’ll always want to control and torment their victims.  Like me.**

**But I remember visiting Daisy after seeing the Nintendo Direct presentation and seeing the hurt and rejection in her eyes.  I remember seeing the Miiverse posts, saying that she didn’t deserve a spot.  I remember how the Miiverse shutdown only led to the random attacks on my fans, on Daisy’s subjects and the plushie burnings.  I remember watching Daisy’s castle being stormed on the news, hearing about disturbances in her court, seeing Paul in that hospital bed and seeing the need for hope in his eyes.  I remember Evan and Mandy telling me about the bullies disrupting their honeymoon and leading them to police corruption, smuggling and abducting Luigi fans.  And now this.  Evelyn rescuing me at the mini-mart, Val following us to Vegas with Paul in tow, the Smash convention, Koopa and Claude going out in a blaze of glory and the discovery of Cerena and her life under Spike’s control.  I can’t believe people would resort to such macabre means just to get under my skin.  Do they really hate me _that_ much?**

**You know what I’m thinking right now?  That the Smash Ballot had been rigged.  That it was just some giant conspiracy to give me false hope for my future and then metaphorically punch me in the face.  These bullies must’ve gotten ahold of the suits at Nintendo and told them of this big plan to troll me, and once the trolling was done, to rub salt in my wounds via cyberbullying.  Guess they didn’t count on Master Hand shutting down Miiverse, but in the end, he should’ve let that be; perhaps things wouldn’t have gotten so bad!**

**I hope they’ve learned their lesson, though.  They can trash me online and via text all they want, but the second they harm my friends, my brother, or my princess, then I’m going to give them a brand-new definition of “Hell”!**

**Gosh, I miss the Smash Mansion so much.  I miss the schedule of matches.  I miss hanging out in the various lounges with my friends.  I miss sparring with Mario and others.  I even miss pounding Sandbags!  I put my fellow Smashers in the line of fire because they wanted to help me, and in the aftermath, I feel so tired and guilty.  I want to go home.  I want to stop taking matters into my own hands if people try to hurt me.  I want the bullying to stop.  I want the hate to stop.  What do I have to do to make them stop?!**

**“Hey,” says Evelyn, approaching me.  “What are you thinking?”**

**“What I’ve learned,” I begin.  “The lengths these people would go to make me and my Princess miserable—it’s really taking a toll on me.”**

**“Well, the good news is, everyone is paying attention now,” Evelyn tells me.  “As we speak, Val and the FBI are persuading Spike and his remaining lackeys to cough up more names and locations.  They’ll be off the streets in no time.”**

**“And what about Smash and Miiverse?”**

**Evelyn smiles.  “They’re being modified, too.  Stricter rules and guidelines.  Including a ‘see something, say something’ policy which allows you to remain anonymous.”**

**“But look what it took to bring all of this about,” I point out.**

**Evelyn nods solemnly.  “We cannot change the past,” she advises.  “What’s done is done, and talking about what went down these past few days won’t erase it.  But what we can do—is look ahead.  Word has it that they want you and some of the Smashers to testify.  And remember Quaz?  He’s gonna testify against Spike, as are Galleom and Duon, in exchange for immunity or shorter sentences.  I doubt if the DA will entertain a plea deal for Spike, though.”**

**“Hey,” I tell her.  “You’ll never know.  We’ll have to be ready if he pulls something like that.”**

**Evelyn thinks it over.  “You’re right,” she says finally.  “L—you don’t look so good.  You want to go home for a while?”**

**“I’m feeling homesick, but what if…?”**

**She shushes me.  “Go home.  Recover.  Do what you have to do,” she commands.  “If you need to testify, they’ll be sure to alert you in a timely fashion.  And if something else comes up…”**

**I beam gratefully at her.  “Thank you, Evelyn,” I say.  “Thank you for all you’ve done for me.”**

**“My pleasure, of course.  No doubt our paths will cross again.”**

**I tiptoe over to Cere’s room and slip a plushie of me, rescued from a burning, next to her.  Then, I meet up with Val and Paul, telling them my plans to clear my head for a while and make things right with the Hands and the other Smashers.  After a hearty welcome back from the dead to Christine and a handshake from Justine, good luck wishes are exchanged.  Once all of my stuff is packed up, I make the call to Master Hand to tell him…**

**…I’m coming home.**


	49. One Step Forward

              The first time Luigi took a break from Smash, it was at Master Hand’s behest.  Not only had he landed in the hospital after attempting 3-Minute Smash, but also they were coming down from a huge argument.  After two weeks off, Luigi’s head had cleared from that mess, and he was shocked to return to a welcome-home party.

              A year later, Luigi and Master Hand’s relationship had once again hit rocky shoals.  Convinced that the giant glove would never give his tormentors the punishment they deserved, Luigi had sneaked off in the night to punish them himself.  But if he hadn’t befriended Evelyn or Val, he probably still wouldn’t be here!  And was it just coincidence that a Smash Con was held in Sin City when he arrived?  The Smashers had used their time there to help him, some of them staying behind after the convention to accomplish this.  Then, Koopa decided to pull his usual princess-snatching stunt, with Claude giving it a darker twist!  Whether Spike had authorized it or not, Koopa intended to hit Luigi where it hurt, exposing his true colors at last.  While convinced that the respect shown to him by the turtle after the Pi’llo Island business was genuine, he also knew that old habits die hard.  Koopa slipped right back into his old ways and joined up with the bullies.  Just as Luigi insisted, villains like Koopa never really changed.

              But now that Spike and his men were in lockup, hopefully with more on the way, Luigi needed to regroup from the harassment, violence, discrimination and homophobia he’d uncovered and indirectly witnessed.  Maybe he’d try again to let the authorities deal with this mess.  So, he bid farewell-for-now to his new friends and took a Warp Pipe back to the Smash Universe, where he was greeted with open arms and a party, just like last time.  They asked questions about his grand adventure, which he answered honestly.  Ness and Villager suggested setting up a charity drive to help the rescued Luigi fans move on with their lives.  Zelda suggested a fundraiser to help them cover any medical expenses they might require.  Both proposals were enthusiastically approved by Mario, Luigi and the three final bosses.  Lucas, Pac-Man, Toon Link and Mega Man joined Ness and Villager in accepting nonperishable food, water, drink mixes, clothes, sundries, toiletries, medicine (handled by supervising adults, of course), toys, video games, books and check and cash donations, which were then distributed to every man, woman and child rescued or having escaped from Spike’s clutches.  A realtor was even sent to Cerena’s hideout to assist her with the process of finding a home for herself.  Peach, Zelda and Kirby baked and sold cookies, muffins and cakes to raise money for the cause.  Little Mac and Doc Louis sold sports gear.  Reflet, Robin, Roy and Lucina sold Fire Emblem merchandise.  Sonic sold chocolates.  Pit and Palutena sold togas, wreaths, headdresses, lyres and other musical instruments.  The Goddess of Light appealed to the people of Skyworld to also contribute.  Little cherubs answered the call immediately, setting up lemonade stands everywhere.  Each of the Smashers and Miis found something appealing to sell, and if they couldn’t find anything, they made things to sell.

              One by one, the worlds associated with the Smashers and Assist Trophies began to get involved.  The Mushroom Kingdom and Sarasaland, already housing some of the rescued, began setting up charities of their own.  Cranky, Lanky and Dixie Kong set up a big banana drive.  The people of Hyrule sent hand-made clothing.  Everyone in Samus’s universe encouraged people to trade in their copies of _Other M_ for cash, a portion of which they donated for the cause.  Popstar held bake sales similar to what Kirby, Zelda and Peach were doing.  The Pokémon universe held special tournaments for the cause, which Pikachu, Charizard, Lucario, Jigglypuff and Greninja commuted from the Smash World to participate in.  Captain Falcon raced in and hosted special F-Zero races.  Ninten, Ana, Jeff, Paula and Poo sold lemonade, root beer floats and baked goods, and the Runaway Five toured the Nintendo universe for benefit concerts.  These were just some of the ways these worlds told Luigi that they heard him loud and clear.

              Master Hand, Crazy Hand and Master Core were relieved.  Relieved that Luigi was back, relieved that he was still alive and relieved that he’d calmed down.  While overseeing these drives and fundraisers, the trio also kept their eyes on the man in green.  They encouraged him to talk to Dr. Mario about his feelings and his tendency to take matters into his own hands.  They freely dispensed tickets for Endless Smash and Cruel Smash.  And they kept him light on the matches until they were certain that his energy had made a full recovery.

              On the battlefield, it was just like old times.  Luigi’s opponents happily made up for lost time with him as they met him halfway with their attacks.  He let out his remaining raw feelings in his battles, bringing back the snap, crackle and pop that was absent during his trip.  He won some and he lost some, but he retained his positive, outgoing attitude and his respect toward the foe or foes pitted against him.  In some matches, items were turned on, and in some, they were turned off.  But Luigi didn’t really use items unless for extreme emergencies, choosing instead to keep his all-around skills top-notch.  He continued to yell at the top of his lungs as his blood boiled, but as long as he was expelling the last of his anger, frustration and God-knows-what-else, the three bosses couldn’t complain.

              One day, after his last match had been fought, Luigi knocked on the office door.

              “Come in!” commanded Master.

              Luigi strode inside and plunked himself into a chair without being asked.

              “A Smash Coin for your thoughts?” offered MC.

              “I’m sorry,” Luigi said simply.

              “What for?” asked Crazy.

              “Everything,” Luigi told them.  “Yelling at you when I found out that you knew the Ballot result in advance.  Beating you up in Classic Mode.  Losing my temper on Marth, Mewtwo, Dark Pit and Kyle.  Deserting you and ultimately drawing some of my fellow Smashers into this mess.  I was tired of waiting and tired of taking it, you know.”

              “We know,” said MC.  “We know now.”

              “I keep thinking back to being nominated for Smasher of the Month, and then having it taken from me because some bully played the victim and you believed him,” Luigi went on.  “I keep thinking back to finally standing up and saying ‘No more’, only to be treated like the bad guy.  I keep thinking…”

              “L, you know we couldn’t tolerate disobedience,” said Master.  “I had explicitly commanded you to leave Stuart alone.  But alas, you are correct.  He was wrong to mock your nomination and to target you and your friends.  There were some important facts he left out, as well.  Perhaps if we’d paid more attention to his actions, none of that mess would’ve happened.”

              “I wish I’d told you about my situation sooner,” said Luigi, “but I let these vicious people control me with their threats.  In my mind, I had to learn how to help myself, or I’d never be rid of them.  But once I finally _did_ tell you, I felt—weightless.  Free.  Because you began to put those new policies up.  Too bad they’re being ignored, though.”

              “Well, with the ‘see something, say something’ policy we’re instituting, that will no longer be the case,” smiled Master Core.  “Say, did you know that Evan and Mandy came to Vegas to see you?”

              “They called me a few times,” said Luigi.  “Are they all right?”

              “We called them about a day after they got in,” MC confessed.  “Told them to get their butts back there on the double before something bad happened to them.”

              “But in the process, they managed to gather some evidence that this bullying network exists,” said Crazy.  “Authorities are verifying and tracing it as we speak.”

              “You really think they’ll manage to get something done?” asked Luigi.

              “Certainly,” beamed Master.  “Last I heard, Spike is being held without bail because he poses a flight risk.  He’s trying to get a plea deal, though.”

              “Does he have a hotshot attorney?” asked Luigi.

              “Yep, and the Sparks family does, too.  But they won’t be able to save them,” Master said confidently.

              “Not with all of this evidence piling up,” Crazy chimed in.  “They’re gonna get life without parole.”

              “Yeah?  Well, I’m gonna make sure of that,” Luigi stated brightly.  “I got a call saying that the judge will allow my testimony in court.”

              “What about Peach and Daisy?” asked MC.  “Will their testimony be allowed as well?”

              “Yes,” nodded Luigi, “and three people in Spike’s employ have decided to testify against him?”

              “What about the corrupt Pianta chief and the two vandals Mr. and Mrs. Vidad took down?” queried Master.

              “They’ll testify, but there’s no deal in for them,” answered Luigi.  “These people are going down.  Hard.”

              Master Hand smiled broadly at the resilient green-clad plumber.  “It’s good to have you back, Luigi,” he said.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              In the correctional facility where Spike was being held, he sat smugly at the metal table, his attorney beside him, as Kovacs, the no-nonsense District Attorney, sat across from them.  At first, the redheaded lawyer had no intention of offering this scumbag a deal of any kind, but her intuition told her that he was hiding something, and if a plea deal was what it took for him to give it up, then so be it.

              “Right now, we’re looking at life with the possibility of parole,” Kovacs was saying.

              “Twenty-five to life,” countered Spike’s attorney.

              Kovacs raised an eyebrow.  “Is there something I don’t know about?”

              “That plumber recovered _most_ of his fans,” said Spike, “but not all of them.”

              “You’re saying that you’re still keeping Luigi fans somewhere?” asked Kovacs.

              “You can say that,” smirked Spike.  “I also know the exact location where they’re held.  I have names, a map with detailed instructions and a car waiting for you outside to take you there.”

              “I’ve prosecuted many desperate criminals in my life,” said Kovacs, “but you take the cake.”

              “So,” said Spike’s lawyer.  “Do we have a deal?”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              “So, let me get this straight,” said Officer Giuliana Formuola.  “You used a 1UP Mushroom to bring your sister back from the dead, and you were driving home from the church when you came across this?”

              “Yes, ma’am,” responded Justine.  “At first, we thought we made a wrong turn.  Then, we got out, and I tripped over something.”

              “We noticed that these mounds were big enough to fit a human,” said Christine, “so that’s when Jus instructed me to call you guys.”

              “It’s good that you did,” said Giuliana.  “This will help us in the Spike Plaxwell case.”

              “Officer, over here!” called Megan, the M.E.

              Giuliana excused herself from the sisters and joined Megan.  “What do you have for me?” she asked.

              “I’d estimate the most recent time of death to be a few days ago,” said Megan.  “Most of these bodies have been here for over a year, maybe more.  We’ll be able to ID some of them, but the older ones have decayed too much.”

              “Causes of death?”

              “Ugh—you don’t want to know.”

              Giuliana sighed resignedly.  “All right,” she said.  “We’ll send officers to notify the families.  I’ll call Kovacs.”

              She returned to Chris and Jus and handed them her card.  “We’ll probably need you for further questioning,” she told them, “and we’ll see if the judge will allow your testimony of this in court.  And to think,” she dropped her voice as she looked as Chris, “Megan and I saw you a few days ago on a metal slab in the morgue!”

              “No wonder my back and head ached so much,” said Chris.

              “Just take care, Chris,” warned Giuliana, “because next time, you may not get a continue.”

              On those words, the policewoman stepped aside to call the DA.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Giuliana’s phone call came at an inopportune time for DA Alexis Kovacs.  She was in the process of getting the IDs of the Luigi fans still needing rescue, the names of more accomplices and a rundown of the map to where they were held.

              “Not a good time, Giulia,” Alexis sighed as she answered her phone.  “I have Spike telling me that he’s hiding more Luigi fans around someplace.  He even gave me a map.”

              “Luigi—fans…”

              “Yeah.  Wh-what is this about?”

              “Does that map happen to lead you to a dirt road a short way from the Desert Wind Baptist Church?”

              Alexis stared at the map.  “Yes—how did you know that?”

              “Tell Mr. Plaxwell ‘no deal’ and meet me at that location.  You won’t believe what these two sisters stumbled upon.”

              “Oh, God,” gasped Alexis, putting two and two together.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Christine and Justine were now joined by a crowd of people, among them Evelyn and Val.  Heartbroken Luigi fans bowed their heads in prayer for the comrades currently being dug up from the mass grave.  Word of the development quickly spread via social media.  Val crossed himself as Evelyn covertly wiped her tears.  Just when they thought things couldn’t get any worse!  How could they have missed those missing longer before the fateful Nintendo Direct announcement, even before voting began on the Smash Ballot?  How could they tell Luigi when he was back home, trying to mend fences and come to terms?  How could they not go with their guts and dig in deeper in their research?

              “I hope they fry this man!” spat Evelyn, to a chorus of solemn “Mmm-hmms”.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Alexis stormed back into the room where Spike and his lawyer waited.

              “Well?” asked Spike.

              “Guess what, wise guy?  You don’t get a deal,” snapped Alexis as she gathered her things.  “They just found something big on you.  And you’ll never see the light of day again.”

              “But—I…”

              “You had your chance to come clean,” Alexis told him smartly, heading for the door.  “You blew it!”

              Spike started to cry as Alexis stalked out and the guards came back in to take him to his cell.  She was right.  His days of glory were over.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              The next morning, Master Hand asked Luigi to see him in his office right away.

              “What is it?” asked Luigi as he settled himself before Master’s desk.

              “I regret to inform you that for some of your fans, rescue wasn’t on time,” sighed the glove.

              “What are you talking about?”

              Master Core cleared his throat.  “Authorities have discovered those fans buried in a mass grave.  Already, it’s being linked to Spike and his cronies.  I’m terribly sorry.”

              Luigi’s head dropped to his chest, and his shoulders trembled.  “Thanks for telling me,” he said in a tiny voice.

              Two hours later, Luigi wore a green armband into his first match of the day.  By lunchtime, the majority of the roster, along with the Assist Trophies, wore green armbands as well.

              “We’re going to get through this,” Master Hand assured his fighters as they stood in solidarity with the man in green.  “So help us God, we’re going to get through.”

             


	50. Two Steps Back

**Close enough to start a war**  
**All that I have is on the floor**  
 **God only knows what we're fighting for**  
 **All that I say, you always say more**

**I can't keep up with your turning tables  
Under your thumb, I can't breathe**

**So I won't let you close enough to hurt me**  
**No, I won't ask you, you to just desert me**  
 **I can't give you what you think you gave me**  
 **It's time to say goodbye to turning tables, to turning tables**

 **Under haunted skies I see**  
**Where love is lost, your ghost is found**  
 **I've braved a hundred storms to leave you**  
 **As hard as you try, no, I will never be knocked down**

**I can't keep up with your turning tables  
Under your thumb, I can't breathe**

**So I won't let you close enough to hurt me, no**  
**I won't ask you, you to just desert me**  
 **I can't give you what you think you gave me**  
 **It's time to say goodbye to turning tables, turning tables**

 **Next time I'll be braver, I'll be my own savior**  
**When the thunder calls to me**  
 **Next time I'll be braver, I'll be my own savior**  
 **Standing on my own two feet**

 **I won't let you close enough to hurt me, no**  
**I won't ask you, you to just desert me**  
 **I can't give you what you think you gave me**  
 **It's time to say goodbye to turning tables, to turning tables**  
 **Turning tables, yeah, turning**

**-Adele**

              The day of the SEC hearing was an ordinary July day.  Luckily, the chambers of the SEC room were air-conditioned, protecting the parties involved in the case from the 100-degree heat.   The board members of the SEC were proceeding with charges against Charlie, Courtney and Cypress Sparks for unfair and unethical business practices.  And the driving force behind these charges?  The black sheep, Cerena.

              Cerena, wearing a floral-print dress, a lavender bolero and nude flats, her hair in ringlets and escorted by five security guards, sat at the small table being sworn in.  She’d spent her days in hiding writing, rewriting and rehearsing her speech.  Faced with three of the people who weighed her down most of her life, she wasn’t in the least bit nervous.  On the contrary, she was excited to finally say her piece and do what she’d should’ve done when she was a teenager!

              One by one, the board members interviewed Cere, who answered their questions crisply and calmly.  She talked about the pre-determined life she was born into, the trips to the psychiatrists to “fix” her, the leather straps and belt buckles and saltwater baths, the homophobia and the anti-Luigi sentiment.  She talked about the corruption she uncovered within the company, the poor animals the products were tested on, the cover-ups of workplace harassment, the secret support and funding of the abuse against Luigi and his fans and the widespread discrimination.  Prospective workers had been turned away for being immigrants, homosexual, transsexual, bisexual, asexual—even African American.  The employees had been prohibited from uttering Luigi’s name for any reason.  If it somehow “slipped out”, then the offender was harshly punished.  And if anybody complained about their policies, they and everyone they loved would have to answer for it.  One poor elderly employee was even swindled out of his life savings.  Finally, Cere talked about her arranged marriage to Spike for her money and company stock and his outrageous misuse of her assets.  She also talked about the pending criminal charges against her family.

              The family lawyer, a mousy-looking man in a tweed suit, tried to use his silver tongue to bail his clients out.  He explained the bad examples and messages Luigi sent to today’s youth, how his clients were trying to guide their youngest daughter in the right direction and how their company valued satisfaction in their customers.  He tried to paint the picture of Cerena as the jealous, bratty younger sister who was always rejected in favor of the elder sister, just like Luigi.  These charges, argued the lawyer, were part of a revenge plot to snag the family’s company shares and money because they didn’t give her the attention she felt she deserved.  But then, the SEC was met with two surprise witnesses: Luigi and Giuliana!  Turns out, before Luigi decided to return to the Smash World, he and Giulia, an old friend of his, had decided to check out this company.  Turns out, none of the products created there were approved, save for Cere’s tiny contribution!  They’d also intimidated rival companies, promoted hate speech and hate crimes and lied, schemed, bribed and extorted their way to the top!  Cere had her suspicions about the company growing up, but to see physical proof materialize before her shocked her to her very toes.  Upon his return to the tournaments, Luigi had put Master, Crazy and MC on the case, and they dug up more skeletons.  Like the checks deposited in to the bank accounts of known villains.  Proof that some abductions of Luigi fans were arranged by the heads of the company, and that those supporting the company willingly sent their sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, parents, uncles, aunts, nephews, nieces and even their grandparents into the clutches of Spike and the others!  The family lawyer didn’t know what to say with this being sprung on him.  And the board members were eating it up like a delicious apple pie!  They deliberated for only thirty minutes before deciding what to do with Charlie, Courtney and Cypress.  Their passports were revoked, their assets and holdings were seized, and leadership of the company was taken from them and given to Cerena, along with control of said assets and holdings.  Needless to say, the threesome was furious, and Cerena, Luigi, Giulia and the three final bosses had to be hustled out of there as the dethroned family members screamed threats, insults and slurs at them.

              They were met outside by Smashers, Assist Trophies, Miis, Luigi fans, the families of the deceased and the LGBT community.

              “You did it, L!” cheered Peach.  “Finally, the corporate world is free of those greedy monsters!”

              “Way to put that family of yours in their place, Cere,” smiled Samus.  “Now, all that’s left to do is punish Spike and the rest of them!”

              “We’re all very proud of you, Luigi,” said Reflet, his arm around Cloud.  “You got to look three of your tormentors in the eye and expose them in front of God and everyone.  _Now_ you’ll get everyone else to pay attention!”

              “Had to do what I had to do,” said Luigi, “but my work isn’t done yet.”

              “And we’ll be happy to help you,” volunteered Ryu, “no matter what the cost.”

              “Ditto,” said Little Mac, kissing Ryu on the cheek.

              “I don’t know,” fretted Luigi.  “After what happened with Peach and Daisy…

              “ _No matter what the cost_ ,” the crowd reiterated as one, and Luigi wasn’t about to argue with that tone of voice.

              Luigi blushed.  “Thanks, guys.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              A week after the SEC hearing, Charlie, Courtney and Cypress, along with Spike and his associates, were put on trial for their crimes.  DA Kovacs was ready to do battle with these two smarmy lawyers, demonstrating her years of experience with a strident, profound opening argument.  All of her witnesses were lined up, ready to take a bite out of the defendants.  And Luigi was among those witnesses.

              The real scene stealer, though, was Cerena.

              “When I was a little girl, my family hated me,” she said, sitting up straight and glaring at the defendants.  “They were supposed to support, encourage and nurture me, and instead, they made me feel like the ugly duckling.  I was yelled at, dragged to these doctors and beaten just because I didn’t want the life they pre-wrote for me.  One of these doctors wanted to put me on drugs!  And so, the idea came that they’d hand me over to Spike once I came of age so that I’d be out of their hair for good.  They knew how he treated me, and they encouraged it.  Neither of them cared whether I lived or died.  Well, Spike kinda did, because he was after my money.”

              She started talking about her life with Spike.  “During my childhood, I ran to him after arguing with my parents.  I thought he understood me.  But he was just grooming me to be his pet.  He ensnared me in his net so that I couldn’t break free once I saw his true self.  He adopted similar punishments from my parents and made them worse.  He made me do things that made me feel worthless and sullied.  He made my body experience sensations it didn’t want to experience.  He openly flirted with other women in front of me, used me as a cash cow among other things, hit the roof when I even looked at another man, turned all of my fantasies into nightmares, and now I’ve learned that he was making babies behind my back.  I told him that I’d spill if I ever caught him doing that.”

              She related other details, details not suitable for print, remaining composed, save for a few tears.  Her eyes burned wrathfully into Spike as she concluded, “See you at your first parole hearing, love.  I’ll send a jar of lube—you’re gonna need it!”

              The judge stifled a laugh as he told the jury to disregard that statement.

              Next, Evan and Mandy were questioned by the lawyers about the discovery of the vandals setting off fireworks in their bungalow during their honeymoon on Isle Delfino.  Then, the couple guided the lawyers through the events leading to corruption charges being brought against the Pianta chief and the criminal threats he’d made against the pair.  They talked about how they flew to Las Vegas, intending to help Luigi bring down Spike, before being summoned back to the Smash World by Master Core.

              Afterward came testimony and victim impact statements from Alessa, Lauren, Susan, Melody, Connie, Ronnie and everyone else who’d been at Spike’s mercy for most of their lives.  They stood tall through intense cross examination and managed to hold in their sobs and weeps until they were allowed to step down from the stand.  Then, the families whose hopes Giuliana and her colleagues were forced to shatter had their say, condemning not only Spike but also the crooked Sparks family members, stating that they knew they financially supported his schemes.

              During Zach’s testimony, he talked about how his marriage to Cypress started off as tender and loving and how they’d worked together to raise their children.  But he empathized with Cerena for several reasons.  One of his friends had endured an abusive household, the first woman he’d dated had been a control freak, and he’d written his undergrad thesis on forced marriages in third world countries.  Zach also testified that Cypress began acting strangely, hiring bodyguards to watch over him and made a scene with the kids in an electronics store when she caught them looking at some Luigi games.  He gave a forthright account of his beating at the hands of the bodyguards his wife hired, being forced to give Cerena up, and learning of Cypress’s scheme to bring false abuse allegations against him, with Spike’s help, of course.  He concluded by saying that he never really trusted Spike from day one and acted cordial with him to pass vital information on to Cerena, and later to Luigi and his friends.

              The days lazily drifted by.  Both the prosecution and the defense filled that stand with witnesses.  The Royal Guards of the Mushroom Kingdom and Sarasaland were on hand when Peach and Daisy had their respective days in court.  In between watching the trial unfold, Luigi was back in action on the battlefield, unwinding and letting loose the moments of uncertainty churning within him as he sat in the gallery.  He still wore his green armband, as did the rest of the Smashers.  His opponents felt the visceral sorrow and grief in every blow he threw, and they all wondered when it had gotten this bad.  The good news was that Spike was paying the price.  The bad news was that Luigi was right.  There were still bullies out there who needed to be caught and disciplined.

              But who should discipline these bullies and how they should be disciplined was still a matter of contention between Luigi and the heads of the Smash tournament.  Though Luigi had faith in the justice system, he couldn’t help but fear that Spike would get a slap on the wrist, a mistrial, or worse, a not guilty verdict due to a technicality.  The Hands, in turn, expressed wholehearted faith in the ‘see something, say something’ policy, stating that it would finally discourage the bullies, both real and cyber, since their actions would no longer be easily hidden.  Luigi tried his hardest to forgive and to drop the grudges he held, but in his eyes, “sorry” wouldn’t undo the harm done to him, to others or bring back the lives senselessly lost.  He’d been forgiving in the past, and many tormentors had taken advantage of that.  Who was to say that they wouldn’t take advantage of his quickness to forgive again?

              Who was to say that, in the midst of Spike’s trial, there were people still actively harassing Luigi?

              The last person to testify against Spike was Luigi.  He was clad in a business suit and tie, fully prepared to deflect the defense attorney’s attempts to discredit him.  The gallery was stuffed with Smashers to emotionally gird him for the ordeal ahead.  On the appointed day, Luigi sat confidently on the witness stand, hands in his lap, eyes locked on the defendants.

              “While I haven’t really met the defendants in person until today,” he stated, “I became aware through friends of what they were up to.  How they oppressed their own family members just because they stick up for me.  How they spread their gospel of hatred to an entire city.  How Spike and his cronies graduated from cyberbullying to burning plushies and defacing property and finally holding innocent people against their will and forcing them to do their evil bidding.  I have also uncovered plots against my own life and survived an attempt by one of his former henchmen to end my game.  The testimony I’ve heard from my fans is sickening and horrifying.  And I cannot un-see the images of that mass grave being unearthed, knowing that the bodies contained in there were once living, breathing fans of mine.

              “What was the point of all of this?  To keep me in my place as Player Two?  To prevent Daisy from ever making it into Smash?  I was used to the cyberbullying and other harassment, but this—it’s a thousand times lower.  Was your hatred of me worth the blood on your hands, the lies you’ve told and the lives you ruined?  Are you proud of yourself, trying to keep me from reaching a good place emotionally?  How long was it going on, and what made you think it was okay?  Because of you, a woman was trapped in a loveless engagement like an animal.  On your watch, my enemies carried out threats to put their hands on my Princess.  And you even had the gall to treat the carnage in Orlando as a joke.  I can’t believe that you’d perpetuate all of this destruction—just to get to me.

              “I’m seeing you, standing there with hangdog looks, hoping for leniency.  I’m hearing the testimony of the witnesses the defense called up, the words of certified child psychiatrists who examined young Cerena at her parents’ behest.  I’m hearing the screams of your victims, their cries as you hurt them.  Tell me this—did you do anything when they pleaded with you to stop, the way you’re silently pleading now?  Did you ever take responsibility for your actions and apologize?  No.  Some may disagree, but I’m a firm believer in the concept of forgiveness, redemption and second chances.  Yet I also think that forgiveness is something to be earned—not something to be freely dispensed.  And you—it’s too late for you to earn my forgiveness.  You’re past the point of redemption.  You don’t deserve a second chance.  And pardon my choice of words, but I hope you rot in prison.  I sincerely do.”

              A parent of one of the deceased suddenly lost it, screaming at the defendants.  Quickly, a bailiff ushered him out.

              The judge called a recess so that the jury could deliberate.

              Cerena walked up to Luigi and touched him on the arm.  “Hey,” she said.

              “Hey,” replied Luigi.

              “Thank you,” sniffled Cere.  “Thank you for being here.  These people tried to tear us down, but they built us up, instead.  We’re not so different, you and I.  Didn’t I say that once before?”

              Luigi beamed at her.  “You did,” he choked out.  “You did.”

              Cerena grabbed Luigi and pulled him into a powerful hug.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              “Has the jury reached a verdict?”

              “We have, Your Honor.”

              “Will the defendants please rise?”

              Spike, Courtney, Cypress and Charlie stood, along with their lawyer.

              “How does the jury find?”

              “On all counts of the indictment, we, the jury, do find the defendants—guilty.”

              “The court would like to thank the jurors for their service.  Defendants are remanded until sentencing.  Court is adjourned.”

              Luigi and Daisy sat with Cere, Alessa, and the rest of their fans and supporters, staring into the faces of their tormentors as their guilt was at last proven in the court of law.  They’d done it.  They’d survived dirty looks and threatening and obscene gestures from the accused to help put them where they belonged.

              “What now?” asked Alessa.

              Daisy looked her in the eye.  “We move on,” she said.

              “We’re not through yet, though,” warned Cere.

              “She’s right,” said Luigi.  “We may have won the battle against Spike Plaxwell, but the war against the bullies is far from over.”

              “The question is: who should fight it?” Connie put in.  “Us or them?”

              Luigi nodded.  “Smart girl.”

              Just then, Mario sidled over and put his arm around Luigi.  “C’mon, Lil’ Bro,” he said softly.  “Master Hand is waiting for us.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              The scene in the Smash Mansion was pandemonium when Mario, Luigi and Peach returned from the trial.  Squawking radios, the static of walkie-talkies, pale and ashen Miis being questioned by police officers and EMTs wheeling stretchers carrying wounded Smashers.  Luigi’s heart dropped like an anchor into his stomach.  This couldn’t be…

              “ _Dio_!” he exclaimed, racing toward MH’s office, Mario and Peach close on his tail.

              He burst through the door, firing questions at once.  “Master Hand!  Are you okay?  What happened?  Who did this?!”

              Master and Crazy peered at the man in green as Dr. Mario tended to them.  Bandages and gauze were wrapped all over the place, and the fabric of each glove had been torn.  Master Core was likewise gashed and banged up.

              “Luigi,” said Master.

              “Oh, _Dio_.  I’m so sorry.  Mario and I—we were at the trial, and we weren’t able to protect you…” Luigi began to sob.

              “It’s not your fault,” MC said weakly.  “Nobody saw this coming.”

              “Define ‘this’,” said Luigi.

              “These men—wore masks—broke in,” said Crazy.  “Attacked us.  A lot are badly hurt.”

              “The Smash Mansion was attacked?!” yelled Luigi.  “Where was security?!”

              “Caught us by surprise,” said MC, beginning to summon his healing energy.

              But Luigi was inconsolable.  “You see?!  You see now?!  You see what happens when I step back and let authority handle things?!” he exploded.

              “Luigi, calm down!” ordered Master.  “We may have been injured, but we all put up a good fight.”

              “How much you wanna bet that Spike is behind this?!” challenged Luigi.

              “It could be someone else,” offered Crazy.  “I mean—Spike had no knowledge of the Smash Mansion—did he?”

              “Unless he had a mole in here!” piped up Luigi.

              “Whoa, there!” said Crazy.  “Let’s not jump to conclusions!”

              “I mean, think about it!  If Spike is behind this, then how would he be able to launch this attack without an inside man?  But maybe you’re right.  Maybe it’s some random attack not connected to Spike.  The question that remains is: what would be the motive in that case?”

              “I have a clue that may assist you, and I really shouldn’t be telling you this,” MC said tentatively.  “The men in the masks defaced the property as well, leaving some—messages—about you.”

              Luigi turned red and started pounding on the desk.  “Just when I think I’m out—they pull me back in!” he seethed.

              Meanwhile, Mario and Peach went to help the other injured Smashers and investigate the crime.  They were surprised and relieved to meet up with Giulia.

              “Guys, you might want to see this,” she said gravely.

              She let them to the Main Hall, where Peach let out a bloodcurdling scream.  Dangling from a chandelier was a Luigi plushie, burned and beaten, a rope tied around its neck.  Spray-painted on the walls were messages such as U SUCK LUIGI, racial slurs and demeaning terms against Daisy.

              Luigi ran inside and slid to a halt at the sight of the wrecked room.  “They—they said _that_ about Daisy?!” he exclaimed.

              It was all too much.  Luigi dove for a trash can and threw up, his green cap falling off his head and into the mess!

              As Mario went to comfort Luigi, Peach and Giulia exchanged a horrified look.  If this was Spike’s last stand, then—

              “Oh, God,” they said as one.  “Cerena!”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              In a matter of hours, a woman who was supposed to be celebrating victory had found herself in a life-or-death situation.

              One moment, she was lounging in her secret hideout, watching TV.  She’d just gotten to the best part of her show when her phone rang.

              “Yeah?”

              “Cerena Sparks,” said a robotic voice.  “Your location will be penetrated in ten seconds.  Clear the area now.”

              “What trickery is this?!” she snapped.

              Alas, this was no trick.  Masked men came bursting through the door and crashing through the roof.  Rough, angry voices shouted.  Cerena put up her dukes and left some marks on the intruders, but her fighting skills were no match for superior numbers.  She soon found herself in a windowless room, where more men waited, and the masked ones made it clear to these guys that Cerena had betrayed her family and her fiancée—an absolute no-no.  This announcement earned her plenty of attention—and not the good kind—as the men set about punishing her for her acts of treachery.  So, instead of basking in her newfound freedom, Cere was currently chained to a bed, every inch of her body in pain, a stereotypical cranky nurse tending to her.

              “Is the mastermind behind this coming to see me?” Cerena asked, just as cranky.

              The nurse obnoxiously smacked the gum in her mouth.  “Well, let’s use our reasoning, shall we?  If the mastermind was here, then you’d already be getting what’s really coming to you, and since I’m the only other person in this room—I’m guessing that the mastermind doesn’t want to deal with you yet.  And furthermore, I’d love to send flowers to the guys who just tore you up because— _wow_!”  She blew a nice-sized bubble and popped the gum in Cere’s face before turning her attention to her iPhone.

              “Gee—what kind of nurse are you?” snapped Cere.

              “Okay, you know what?  I’d watch my mouth if I were you, seeing that you’ve already angered a lot of people.  And furthermore, my shift is ending soon, so unless your betraying, backstabbing behind wants to…”  She was interrupted by a knock on the door.  “Well, lookie here.  The mastermind’s showed up.  May God be with you.”  She walked to the door and opened it, brushing past the visitor as she continued on her way.

              “Who are you?” Cere growled at the new arrival.  “What do you want from me?”

              “You don’t recognize me, Cerena?” asked a man’s voice.

              “Nope—can’t say I do.”

              The man walked closer.  “Perhaps you’ll recognize my clients.”

              Something about the voice banked into the prisoner’s memory.  “Wait a minute!” she laughed despite the mastermind’s fearsome presence.  “Hold on a freaking _minute_!  How can I not recognize my own family’s lawyer?  Step outside and let me buy you a cup of coffee, ’cause we’ve got stuff to talk about!”

              “I’m afraid we have nothing to talk about, Miss Sparks.”

              “Aww—are you here to whine about how I completely destroyed the family name _and_ the company?” Cerena asked mockingly.  “Hashtag: heard it all before!  But I’m surprised my darling ex-fiancé isn’t here to unleash his rage, seeing how I brought his empire crashing down around him!”

              “His attorney plans to file an appeal, so at least he has something to live for.  But my clients and I—we have absolutely nothing to live for—and nothing to lose.”

              “Well, that’s too bad, because I just wanted to tell him how good he’ll look in prison dungarees.  No matter—I’ll just tell you!  I can see him now, cuffed like a common criminal and caged like an animal!  I’m not ashamed of what I’ve done, and I’m not sorry for what I did to my abusive family and that serpent they wanted me to marry!  I accuse them all before human justice and before God!  And the only regret I feel right now is that I wasn’t there when the police stormed that chapel and brought their parade to a screeching halt!”

              That was all she had time to say before the rat-faced lawyer straddled her and set upon her already-battered face with his fists, seeing in his mind the anguish on the faces of the mother, the father and the sister of this thankless demon.  Unsatisfied with the damage his fists were doing, the family lawyer now turned on her with his briefcase, bringing it down over and over until he could no longer feel the being below him struggling or hear her screams.  Looking down at the sordid deed he’d done, the anger left him in a rush, and he let the briefcase fall to the floor, cradling what was left of Cerena’s face in his hands and sobbing in remorse.

              “Oh, what have I done?” he sobbed.  “What have I done?”

              Gently, he closed the eyelids of the woman he’d known since she was a chubby-cheeked little girl.  “Be at peace, my child,” he whispered.  “Please, forgive me as I forgive you myself.”

              A gurgling laugh escaped from Cerena’s throat as she sent a thick, dark glob of her blood into his face.

              “You lose,” she rasped.

              “POLICE!  FREEZE!  HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!”

              Bewildered, the lawyer turned.  Samus, Fox, Falco, Captain Falcon, Val, Giuliana and a score of police officers stood where the door used to be, armed and ready.  Knowing that resistance was futile, he immediately surrendered.

              “What in God’s name?!” bellowed Master Core as he, his sons, Luigi, Mario, Peach and the rest of the Smashers arrived on the scene.

              “Why didn’t she just do as she was told?!” bawled the lawyer as the police quickly slapped handcuffs on him.  “Why did it have to end like this?”

              Cerena’s mocking, triumphant laughter pursued him as he was hauled outside and into a police cruiser.

              Dr. Mario rushed to the woman’s side as her laughs quieted and her eyes closed.  “She has a pulse!” he announced, to sighs of relief from both the Smashers and law enforcement.

              The GPS on her phone had done its job—and saved her life.

              As the EMTs whisked her away, Master Hand floated toward Luigi.  “L…”

              Luigi cut him off with an icy glare.  “How could you let this happen?!” he snapped.  “How could you?!”

              “I—I…” stammered Master.

              But the plumber stomped away from him.


	51. Crossroads

              “Link gave her one of his Heart Containers,” said Dr. Mario, “so she’s going to be okay.”

              “That’s the good news,” said Master Hand, “but it’s cold comfort, seeing how we saw none of this coming.  Who could’ve betrayed her location?”

              “I don’t know, but we need to find out before Luigi does,” warned Master Core.

              “If he hasn’t already,” qualified Crazy Hand.

              “You may see her if you’d like,” said Dr. Mario.  “Just try not to excite her too much.”

              “Duly noted,” said MC.

              The trio floated into Cere’s room and stood in shock.  Link’s Heart Container had worked its magic, healing all of her injuries.  Slowly, the young woman raised her head and smiled at them.  “You must be the leaders of Smash.  It’s an honor to meet you.”

              “Likewise,” said Master.

              “How’s Luigi?” asked Cere.

              “He’s not taking this very well,” sighed MC, “and he’s beating himself up over being unable to protect you.”

              “Tell him to stop blaming himself, and so should you,” Cere said sternly.  “None of this is your fault.  We were taken by surprise.”

              “Who else besides you knew where you were hiding?” Crazy wanted to know.

              “Luigi, Evelyn, Alessa, and some Miis,” replied Cere.  “Sometimes, the Princesses and some old friends of mine would pay me a visit.”

              “Well, we can rule out your friends as potential suspects,” said Master, “which leaves the Miis.”

              “They pampered me almost every day,” said Cere.  “Are you saying that one of them betrayed me?”

              “I’m afraid we have to explore that possibility,” said MC.  “What do you remember about them?”

              “They gave me facials, body treatments, manicures, pedicures and massages.  They made sure that I was comfortable.  My hideout was guarded and patrolled 24/7.  I don’t see how it could’ve been penetrated, unless—unless…”

              “…unless one of your guards was the mole,” finished Master.  “Did you ever see their faces?”

              “One had crew-cut blonde hair,” said Cerena.  “The other had black hair flopping all over his face.  I think one wore wife-beaters, but I couldn’t really tell.  There were twins, with long, thin faces.  They were so nice.  I can still remember them smiling at me and assuring me that all was well, that my ordeal was almost over, the day of the raid.”

              “So you suspect none of them?” asked Crazy.

              Cere just shrugged.  “It’s always the quiet ones.”

              “Don’t worry, we’ll find out who was behind this,” vowed Master.

              “I’m gonna hold you to that,” retorted Cere.

              The trio bade Cere good day and departed for Master’s office to discuss their next move.

              A Mii with sandy-hair met up with them in the hallway.

              “Good news or bad?” asked Master.

              “Depends on how you see it,” said the Mii.

              “Is it—Luigi related?” Crazy asked cautiously.

              The Mii nodded.  “He’s here to see you, sirs.”

              “How long has he been waiting?” asked MC.

              “Not very long,” the Mii assured them.  “Good day, gentlemen.”

              The trio stared after the Mii as he scurried off.

              MC muttered a prayer and crossed himself before pushing open the office doors and ushering his sons inside.  Patiently waiting for them, seated with a drink in his hand, was Luigi.

              “Thank you for waiting, L,” said MC as the doors closed behind him and his sons.

              “Well?”  That was all Luigi said.  “Well?”

              “She’s making a full recovery,” volunteered Master.

              “Because you got there in time for Link to give her one of his hearts,” Luigi said coldly.

              “True,” conceded Master.

              “A few words from Spike to that lawyer, and look what happens,” said Luigi.  “I bet they planned this the moment Spike and that family was arrested.”

              “So far, there’s no proof that Spike was behind the attack on the mansion,” said Crazy, “and the lawyer’s insisting that he acted alone.  He may be able to swing an insanity plea.”

              “Typical,” muttered Luigi.  “Will I get to see her?”

              Master nodded.  “She’s resting right now.”

              “And those monsters will be sentenced tomorrow,” added MC.  “They’re likely to get life without parole.”

              “I want to be there, and I bet Cerena does, too,” Luigi told them.

              “Certainly,” said Master.

              “How was her location betrayed?” Luigi demanded of the three.  “And who gave her up?”

              “We don’t know, L,” sighed Master.  “We wish to God we did, but we don’t.  But the traitor can’t hide from us.  We’ll find them.”

              “You’ll find them,” said Luigi, the tone of his voice growing more acidic by the second, “just like you found the others who bullied me, harassed my Princess and trolled both of us day in and day out.  Because you’re so good at pinpointing that type of thing, aren’t you?”

              “Luigi, I’m warning you, if you don’t drop the attitude…” warned Master.

              But he was a ticking time bomb, and the clock had just run out.  “You were supposed to protect her, you idiots!  Her along with the rest of the Smashers!  Since you’re so freaking powerful—you should’ve stopped this from happening!  You mean to tell me that you’re incapable of that?!”

              “Luigi!” barked MC.

              “You want to know what I think?  That there are more bullies and trolls hidden in this place, waiting to strike!  But I’m sure they slid right past you once they smiled in your face!  Just like Kyle and the others!  They’re so innocent and kind and polite, so they must surely be angels, right?  You wouldn’t believe me if I found out what they’re doing to me, right?”

              “If that turns out to be true, then they will be dealt with,” said Master, “but you need to calm down.  We get that you’re going through a rough time, but don’t take it out on us.”

              “You want me to calm down?  _Then punish them the way they’re supposed to_!” hollered Luigi.

              “We will not be made the enemy here!” Master shot back.  “You know why we can’t do that!”

              “Oh, yes, of course.  Your image,” sniped Luigi, rolling his eyes.  “You know what?  If you showed less concern toward your freaking image and more concern toward the well-being of one of your best Smashers, then perhaps it would be easier for you!  Aren’t these bullies on the inside tarnishing your image enough?!”

              “Of course, they are, and we’re definitely concerned for your well-being!” said MC.  “That’s why we’re asking you to let go of your anger and hatred toward them and let us handle it!”

              “Yeah?  Well, if you don’t give them what they deserve, then _I_ will!” warned Luigi, “and there’s nothing you can do to stop me!”

              On those words, Luigi stood, violently shoved the chair aside and stalked out of the office.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              The next morning, Spike, Cypress, Courtney and Charlie stood before the judge, a full gallery of justice-hungry people behind them.  Outside the courthouse was a larger crowd of hopeful citizens, Smashers, Luigi fans and Miis, accompanied by the media with their cameras, microphones and vans.

              “You have been charged, tried and found guilty of your crimes,” the judge said to the defendants.  “Is there anything you’d like to say before I pass sentence upon you?”

              Cypress went first.  “I hope my baby sister is proud of what she’s done,” she spat.  “Wrecking our company and our name, and then driving our lawyer to insanity!  Just know, Lil’ Sis, that you’ll never forget us, no matter how hard you try.”

              “Well, I’ve got nothing to say,” remarked Charlie, “except for how disappointed I am in Cerena for causing this—after everything this family has done for her.”

              “Having her was the worst mistake we ever made,” hiccupped Courtney, angry tears in her eyes.  “But now that we’ve discovered your secrets, Cere, allow me to let you in on _my_ little secret—I was _this close_ to aborting you!  We never wanted a second child!”

              The last person to speak was Spike.  “I offer a good woman power beyond her wildest dreams,” he said, “and this is how she expresses her gratitude.  She won’t openly admit this, but she wanted it and enjoyed it—I know she did, and I’ll keep and cherish the memory of our time together.”

              The judge managed to keep a straight face.  “Courtney, Cypress and Charlie Sparks, I hereby sentence you to two 25-year sentences to be served consecutively.  Spike Plaxwell, due to the severity of your crimes, I hereby sentence you to life without the possibility of parole.  The defendants will be transported to the correctional facility immediately.  Court is adjourned.”

              Cerena and Luigi joined the rest of the gallery in smirking at the defendants as they were cuffed and led away.

              “Enjoy your stay, my darling,” Cere sniffed at her former fiancé.  “By the way, I never asked for your power or your name.”  She winked.  “I’ll have that lube waiting for you, love.”

              Luigi put a hand on her shoulder.  “Lay off,” he said.  “He’s not even worth the trouble.”

              Cere sighed.  “I know—but I’m so mad at him.”

              “Me, too,” said Luigi, “but we still have that lawyer to deal with.”

              “Don’t bother,” huffed Cere.  “They deemed him incompetent to stand trial.  He’s currently spending his days in a psychiatric facility.  But he seemed perfectly sane to me!  Who knew he had anger issues?”

              “Well, the good news is that you can come out of hiding now,” smiled Luigi, “and you can finally wear my hat and play my games with pride.”

              “Seeing that I’m in charge of a company now, I’ll have little time for games,” quipped Cerena, “but perhaps I’ll teach myself how to play _Super Smash Bros. for Wii-U_.  Maybe you’ll see me at future tournaments and conventions.”

              “Yeah,” said Luigi.  “Anything is possible.”

              “Goodbye, L,” Cere said softly, “and thank you.”

              “No, Cere.  Thank _you_.”

              The two shared one final hug before departing to move on with their lives.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Master Hand, Crazy Hand and Master Core couldn’t sleep that night.  Not only was Luigi back to beating Sandbags, but also his words rang in their minds.  He was right—they’d failed to protect the Smashers against a surprise attack, and they’d failed to protect Cerena against a crazy, vengeful lawyer.  It was just luck that the police got there in time and that Link was able to heal her with the Heart Container.  And if Spike wasn’t behind the attack, then who was?  And who was helping them on the inside?

              “We have no choice,” MC said to his sons.  “We’ll have to open up another investigation.”

              “The Smashers look clean,” said Crazy, “so we’ll have to look more closely at the Mii Fighters.  Remember the carnage Luigi left in his wake during Endless Smash last year?  No doubt, he remembered some of them.”

              “But besides Kyle, who else would hold a grudge against him?” asked Master.

              “That’s what we’re going to find out,” MC said determinedly.

              “We’re going to have to work quickly, though,” warned Crazy, “because Luigi’s on the case, too.”

              “What could we have done?” Master asked suddenly.

              “What?” murmured Crazy.

              “What could we have done to prevent these attacks?” asked Master.  “We didn’t have a warning or anything.  Everyone here seemed genuinely worried about Luigi.”

              “That’s the key word,” MC told him.  “‘Seemed’.  That’s why we’ll have to look in and figure out if anyone is hiding anything, and if so, what.”

              “Well, the good thing is that Spike and that lawyer won’t harm anyone else,” said Crazy.  “They’re locked up nice and tight where they belong.”

              “True,” sighed Master, “but as long as there are other haters about, we’ll never be at peace—and neither will Luigi.”

              Suddenly, he rose from his seat and floated away.  “Don’t follow me,” he said to Crazy and MC.

              Master floated down the hallways until he found what he was looking for—the Training Area.  He felt a strange sense of déjà vu as he hovered by the door.  The last time he was here, listening as Luigi pounded out his frustrations and his passions and whatever else tormenting him, heated words had been exchanged over the plumber’s handling of Stuart Bennigan.  Instead of being thankful that he was on probation rather than suspended, Luigi felt that he didn’t deserved to be punished in any way, since Stuart was the bad guy.  Master had lost it after Luigi sent a vase, along with other objects, in his direction after the glove upheld his decision to punish him.  His own frustration boiled over into a rant to Crazy Hand, which Luigi overheard.  And he didn’t want to think about what happened after that.

              Master had never interrupted Luigi’s training before, but he felt that he needed to talk to him, and it couldn’t wait.  The Smashers, as well as the mansion, had recovered following the attack, and the glove hoped that Luigi had come to grips and cooled off.  Perhaps seeing Spike off to prison had given him some sort of closure.  Maybe the two could work out a compromise of sorts regarding how to handle this situation.

              The funny thing was that both of them thought the bullying had stopped following the Death Stare two years ago.

              Master Hand knocked on the door.  “Hey, Luigi,” he said.

              The punching and grunting stopped.  “What?” a voice sharply asked.

              “I need to speak with you,” said Master.  “Now.”

              Muttering.  Then, the door creaked open, revealing the man in green.

              “Hey, Master Hand,” said Luigi.  “You’re staying up with me?”

              “There’s a lot of stuff on my mind,” said Master.  “Probably won’t be able to sleep, anyway.”

              “Well, I guess you’re in good company,” said Luigi.

              “Listen, L.  If we’d known that we were under threat of being attacked, then we would’ve protected everyone.  Same as with Cere.  But you must believe us—we didn’t.  But we’ll never be caught off guard like that again.”

              “Yeah, until someone else does something to me,” said Luigi.

              “Dad, Crazy and I thought about what you said,” Master told him, “and we’ve decided to launch another investigation into this matter.  But I’m telling you—you’ve got to leave it to us this time.”

              “Depends on how thorough this investigation is.”

              “L, I assure you, no stone will be left unturned,” said Master.

              “I trust you,” Luigi said finally, “but I meant what I said yesterday.  Those bullies will be punished, either by your hand or mine.”

              “I’m worried about you.”

              Luigi smiled.  “Don’t be.  I’m fine.”

              “Just don’t do something stupid—or something that you’ll regret,” warned Master.

              “I make no promises,” said Luigi.  “If they keep going after my Princess, then all bets are off.”

              “You’re a good man, Luigi, defending your Princess.  But sometime—somewhere—you have to let go.”

              Luigi shrugged.  “Easier said than done, Master Hand.  Too much has been done to me by too many people.  But I appreciate you coming down to talk to me.”  His eyes sparkled.  “I didn’t mean to fly off the handle.  But in times like these, your image should be the least of your worries.  I’ll see you in the morning.”

              “Yeah.  See you in the morning,” echoed Master Hand as Luigi closed the door and went back to assailing the Sandbags.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              “You think he’s gonna be okay?” Mandy murmured sleepily as she lay in her husband’s arms.

              “Oh, yeah.  Give it time, and he’ll beat these guys back,” Evan said confidently.

              “You know, I’ve been thinking,” yawned Mandy.  “What if the Smash Ballot and patch 1.1.1 were rigged?  Y’know—to troll and torment Luigi?  From what you told me, many Smashers were salty about those down throw combos.”

              “Yup.  I can name a few of those Smashers off the top of my head,” Evan told her.  “But I highly doubt that they really wanted to hurt Luigi.  Besides, it would take a lot to prove that the down-throw nerf was a conspiracy and that the Ballot was rigged.”  He kissed the top of her head.  “Get some sleep, Mrs. Vidad.  We have a big day tomorrow.”

              “Oh, yes,” said Mandy.  “We do…”

             

 

             

               

             


	52. Interlude: Much Ado About Puffballs

**_Meta Knight’s POV_ **

**The Halberd is, has been and always will be Luigi’s favorite place to think.**

**I can recount extensive details of our talks aboard the Halberd, Luigi leaning on the rails of the deck, staring out into the sky and the clouds.**

**The first time Luigi set foot on the Halberd, it was during the Brawl years.  After a standard match between him and I, he looked like he needed somewhere to clear his head, so I invited him to stay aboard.  He accepted with a smile, and we flew through the skies for a while.  We got to talking, and it wasn’t long before the man in green was unburdening himself.  Being brainwashed the prior year and feeling jealous, helpless and inadequate, the stuff he channeled into his true power at the time.  I listened, and then I gave him advice on how to handle those feelings and memories.  He was visibly better after our talk, and he thanked me before disembarking.  The next afternoon, after his matches were done, I looked over to find him waiting at the entrance and allowed him to come aboard.  Days turned into weeks, and soon I grew used to having Luigi fly by my side on the Halberd.  I’d even show him how the controls worked and give him lessons on how to fly the craft.  He was like my unofficial co-pilot.  We’d talk about life and its obstacles, or Luigi would vent while I listened, or I’d freely dispense advice.  Sometimes, Luigi would be in contemplative silence, and I’d pilot the Halberd and allow him to think.**

**There was only one day when Luigi didn’t visit the Halberd, which turned out to be a good thing when the Subspace Army attacked.  I had faith in his fighting abilities, but I still don’t think he would’ve stood a chance against the Primids.  After the adventure had ended and the Halberd was repaired, I gave Luigi free access to the Halberd to reward him for his bravery.  He didn’t even have to talk to Sailor Dee in advance.  Besides the Brawls, some fresh air and a wise knight to talk to seemed to cure whatever ill Luigi was feeling.**

**Being on the Halberd works twice as well today.  Despite having his positivity boosted during the Year of Luigi and the fateful kart race on the heels of its demise, people are still, sadly, giving my green-clad _amigo_ a hard time.  It’s just subtler and/or more covert than before the Year of Luigi.  Last year, he managed to put those old grudges behind him, but now that his tormentors have laid eyes on his Princess—I can’t bring myself to finish that sentence.**

**I’ve advised Luigi to keep a strong focus on what he wants.  But after his discoveries during his travels, he tells me that he’s not sure what he wants anymore.  He wants the bullies to lay off of him.  He wants Daisy to have the chance of showing off her trademark spunk.  He wants closure over the results of the Smash Ballot—and his emerging suspicions over the thing prevents him from getting it.  And most of all, he wants the Hands to understand why he reacts to his tormentors the way he does.**

**I do, and I see the bullies for the cowards they truly are.  When a faceless cyberbully said some harsh words about Blade and Sword, I challenged the interloper to a duel.  That challenge has never been replied.  And Luigi may not know it yet, but I have pinpointed his remaining tormentors and challenged them all to duels.  They, too, have not answered.  No matter.  Luigi will smoke them out sooner or later.**

**Upon Luigi’s return, we slip back into the routine of things.  Fighting our matches, and then Luigi coming to see me on the Halberd.  We talk, we think, we tell stories and we laugh, and now Luigi begins to give me advice of his own as repayment for my advice to him.  He talks about the welling feelings of uncertainty in his gut, that maybe the justice system will fail and Spike will get his appeal, or that Spike will break out of prison to wreak more havoc.  The doubts he has in the night that he doesn’t want to share with those Hands because they’ll contradict him.  I talk about the doubts I’ve carried since Kyle attacked Kirby and Pikachu and the days I’ve spent praying for you.  I also talk about how our boy and my boyfriend Roy has begun to act strange lately.**

**Let’s talk about that, shall we?**

**Since Valentine’s Day, Roy and I have explored all dimensions of our newfound relationship.  Maybe it was a good thing that Luigi gave me a nudge toward him.  Our boy Roy is so passionate and fiery and loyal, three of the qualities I prefer in a significant other.  We went to Vegas together, both for the convention and to support Luigi.  Our first real date was aboard the Halberd, and we can spend whole nights on the craft, listening to our favorite tunes and making out.  We’ve overcome our differences in anatomy to bring each other pleasure, thank you very much.  On very special days, I bring a band to serenade me and Roy.  He’s gotten over losing Marth and seeing him for the smug and selfish royal he really was.  Or at least, I think he has.**

**Roy and I still spend passion-filled nights aboard the Halberd, making tender love under the stars.  But I’ve also started spending more time with Luigi.  I don’t want Roy to think that I’m forgetting about him, because that’s not the case.  But can’t Roy see that Luigi needs a sounding board right now—and sometimes, Mario and Peach alone aren’t enough to soothe his soul.  I try to deflate the tension by inviting both Luigi and Roy onto the Halberd.  We’d tell jokes and have a few drinks as my tunes play on the stereo and the craft cuts through the skies under Sailor Dee’s steady hand.  But Luigi’s no airhead—and he’s starting to catch on.  He tells me that Roy’s beginning to act distant and cool towards him, and I don’t know what to say.  Our boy Roy can’t be jealous, can he?  After all, it was Luigi who brought us two together as we were recovering from previous relationships (Marth for him, Lucario for me)!  And Roy sought out Luigi for comfort after ending things with Marth!  We’re going to have to talk about this, because I’ve enjoyed being in love with Roy.  I don’t want to hurt him the way Marth did.**

**Sometimes, Kirby joins us.  Me, Luigi, Roy and Kirby—can’t get any better, right?  Unfortunately, I uncover more puzzles.  Kirby—he doesn’t seem to like Roy very much.  He’s almost as curt with him as Roy is becoming with Luigi.  Something I haven’t quite noticed until recently is that my student gets quite aggressive with my boyfriend during matches.  Kirby defends me at the drop of a hat the way I defend him, so I can’t help but wonder—does he sense trouble in paradise regarding me and Roy?  Or is it something more?**

**I don’t mean to make Roy feel insecure about our relationship.  I love him, and I promise to be everything Marth wasn’t.  But Luigi is a very good friend of mine, has been for the past eight years, and so help me God, I’m not leaving him when he needs his friends the most!**

**_Kirby’s POV_ **

**POYO!**


	53. Kronos Unveiled, Part 3

              Evan snagged his roommate as he left the cafeteria the next morning.  “Hey, Luigi—got a minute?”

              “Of course,” replied Luigi.  “What is it?”

              “There’s something Mandy and I want you to see,” explained Evan, “and we really shouldn’t be telling you this…”

              Luigi looked deep into Evan’s eyes.  “If it’s about those bullies, then it’s perfectly okay to tell me.”

              Evan drew a breath.  “Follow me.”

              The roommates walked briskly down the hall to the Smash Library, where an array of computers awaited them.  Mandy, seated at one of the computers, waved to the men.

              “Morning!” she called brightly.

              “Hi, Mandy,” said Luigi as Evan kissed his wife.  “What do you have for me?”

              “Last night, we’ve got to thinking,” said Mandy.  “What if someone here had a few skeletons in their closet?  Well, we did some poking around, and we just hit the jackpot.”

              Triumphantly, she turned the monitor around so that Luigi could have a look.

              “ _Mio Dio_.  An entire website dedicated to hating me?”

              Mandy nodded gravely.  “It’s been around well before Smash even started, and the shutdown of Miiverse only caused it to grow.  There are chat rooms, discussion forums, social media pages, videos, games, merchandise—even a kiddie area.”

              “Did you find out the administrators?” asked Luigi.

              “Indeed,” said Evan.  “Koopa and Marth were behind it all this time.  So was Spike.  Even Stuart Bennigan and his buddy Tristan.  And did you know that Stuart isn’t an only child?  He has a few brothers.  Their names are Manny, Shane and Vincent.”

              “Stuart never told us about them,” remarked Luigi.

              “Guess we just discovered the reason why,” mused Mandy.

              “So—ever since Melee—Marth was administrator of this hateful site?” asked Luigi.  “We’d better tell Roy.  Not that he’ll believe me—he’s starting to get into a funk over Meta Knight spending time with me.”

              “You don’t say,” breathed Mandy, exchanging a glance with Evan.

              “What?” asked Luigi.  “You’re saying you knew about this?”

              “We knew that Roy was in a funk, but not over you,” Evan told him.  “But—I’ve been hanging around with Kirby a lot lately, and whenever Roy’s name is brought up…”

              “Well, Roy’s dating his mentor,” shrugged Luigi.  “He wants to make sure the Red Lion treats him right.”

              “L,” said Mandy, “have you noticed that Kirby’s interactions with Roy have been—tenuous—since his grand return?”

              “I—no,” gasped Luigi.  “Roy’s been good to me.  He’d never hurt anyone.”

              “When he’s in a good mood,” qualified Mandy.  “Let’s just say that Evan and I have done some digging and discovered—that our boy Roy could be a very bad boy sometimes.”

              “People say things they don’t mean when they’re upset,” objected Luigi, “to let off steam.  I mean, I can tell whether or not someone means what they say.  Can you?”

              “Yep,” said Evan, “but the next time you see Kirby, you should encourage him to get it off his chest.  It’ll be just like old times, right?”

              Luigi’s spider senses started tingling at those words.  “Right.”

              “Getting back on the subject,” said Mandy, “this website is the full package.  It’s stuffed with arguments against Daisy in Smash, and Koopa and Marth were among the top posters in this one.  Even a few from Waluigi, but hey, he’s your rival.  And who do I see here—Pittoo and Kyle.  Kyle was also an administrator, by the way.”

              “I never really trusted that Mii,” murmured Luigi.  “Who else?”

              “Stuart’s brothers, Tristan, Spike, some dudes named Eddie and Vincent, Mewtwo—not a lot of other people we know,” said Mandy.  “There’s Porky, but you took care of him in Vegas, and he’s just a whiny brat.  All of these people—whiny brats!”  She calmed down.  “Hold on.  I’m seeing posts talking about a secret operation—Operation Ballot Box.”

              “The drop-down menu,” said Evan.  “I see a tab marked Operation Ballot Box!”

              Mandy clicked on the tab and nearly had her breath taken away.  Operation Ballot Box was, as Luigi suspected, a grand scheme to rig the Smash Ballot.  By casting multiple votes for troll-y characters like Cory, Rayman, Banjo and Kazookie, Goku, Shantae, Shovel Knight and that ogre—basically anyone accept Daisy—they’d inflate the vote counts for those characters to decrease the chances of Daisy making it into the tournaments!  How come they didn’t discover this sooner?

              Evan banged his forehead against the table.  “I knew it,” he groaned.  “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it.”

              “But did the Hands know?” asked Mandy.  “They knew that Daisy wasn’t going to make it.”

              “But they didn’t know who voted for who,” said Evan.  “It was a blind poll.”

              “Maybe they knew, but they didn’t take it seriously,” postulated Luigi.  “They thought it was some kind of gag.  Well, I’m looking at this, and these people are for real.”

              “Well, the Smash Ballot isn’t the only thing they were scheming over,” said Evan.  “Look at this tab.”  He moved the cursor over it.  “It says ‘Project Nerf’.”

              “Click on it,” said Luigi.

              So Evan did.  And the trio couldn’t believe their eyes.

              “Oh, God,” Mandy choked out.  “Patch 1.1.1.”

              “Someone even posted replays of your matches before the nerf,” Evan said to his roomie.  “A spectator, perhaps.”

              Luigi shook his head.  “The quality is too good.  Someone here may have purloined a copy from the Replay Area.”

              “Or someone has a very good iPhone,” shrugged Mandy.

              Luigi scrolled down the page, his face reddening with every sentence.  Every post, video and forum topic spewed salt and abuse over his prized down-throw combos, made useless following the fateful nerf last September.  Written temper tantrums over how close to unbeatable he was and how he didn’t deserve to be among the best.  Whispers about how Daddy Sakurai could “take care of everything”.  The man in green closed his eyes and remembered the heated conversations he overheard in Master Hand’s office, some salty For Glory scrub making their case to the heads of the tournament about how Luigi was overpowered and that he needed to be “toned down”.  He also recognized the voices of other Smashers, but there had been so much on his mind that he didn’t pay close attention to the voices.  There was also a lot of hate on his down-throw on Miiverse, but he was trying to start over fresh and forgive.  A lot of good _that_ did…

              “I’ve heard plenty of conspiracy theories regarding this,” said Evan.  “Say, I read an essay by this woman who fiercely loves Luigi, and you know what she called all of this?  UpdateGate—like the Watergate scandal.”

              “UpdateGate,” repeated Mandy.  “I’ve heard it, but since there wasn’t a lot of proof back then…”

              “What are these audio recordings?” asked Luigi.  “And what are these videos?”

              “Probably more rants on how ‘broken’ you are,” sighed Evan.

              But he was wrong.  The audio revealed none other than secret conversations discussing this so-called “UpdateGate”.  Their plan here was to “knock that green wimp down from his little pedestal” and “reduce him to the punching bag he’s supposed to be” by hitting him where it really hurt—his stats in Smash 4.  They knew that Luigi’s down throw was a tour de force of a secret weapon, and they wanted to snatch it away from him—snatch it and throw it in the trash where he’d never find it.  By heaping some Smash-related misfortune onto his shoulders, the conspirators hoped to critically damage Luigi’s self-esteem.  And once Daisy found out how he’d been weakened, she’d never want him again.

              The conspirators had an ally on their side—Daddy Sakurai, their lord and savior.  Luigi had communicated with this powerful figure, trying to negotiate his Flower Princess into Smash.  He knew the positivity she’d bring to the fighting tournament, along with the increased time they’d spend together.  But Sakurai was getting annoyed.  Who did Player Two think he was, bossing the almighty Daddy Sakurai around?  So, when the conspirators pitched the idea to him, Daddy Sakurai put on his trollface and said “Yes”.  As an afterthought, he gave random changes to other fighters to cover their tracks, so the other Smashers wouldn’t be suspicious.  And on the day that patch 1.1.1 was sent out into the world of Smash, the conspirators celebrated with a party that would put the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge to shame!

              Too bad they didn’t see Luigi the day the patch notes arrived at the Smash Mansion, how he made the jeerers and the trolls eat their words with brand-new combos!  Too bad they didn’t see how the nerf to his down throw was a buff on his spunk!  Otherwise, they wouldn’t have been so quick to try and cut him down.  Ah, well.  They’d answer for their actions—every single one of them!

              And the videos?  Pre-patch rants, live video footage of the “patch party” and post-patch videos bidding “good riddance” to Luigi’s combos!  Mock funerals, that sarcastic, sad-violin music—open the floodgates to en masse bullying!

              “I’m really sorry, L,” sighed Evan, placing a consoling hand on Luigi’s shoulder.  “We should’ve discovered this sooner.”

              “Better late than never,” said Luigi.  “So—Sakurai— _knew_?  What else did he know?”

              Mandy pressed her lips together determinedly.  “We’re gonna find out.”

              Luigi checked his watch.  “Keep me posted,” he said before heading out to prepare for his first match of the day.

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              Roy watched as Meta Knight unsheathed Galaxia and made a few practice swings in the air with it.  He parried against an invisible opponent, feinting, dancing and flapping on those wings of his, lunging, attacking and retreating.  He practiced his Mach Tornadoes, Drill Rush, Shuttle Loop and Dimensional Cape, punctuating his moves with his forceful battle cries.  Roy was stirred every time he saw Meta practice.  He had excellent form for a puffball.  Whenever the Red Lion had a stressful day, then he’d cool his heels watching his masked knight practice.

              Even with their romance sailing toward choppy waters, the sight of Galaxia flashing in the light was something to be hold for our boy Roy.

              Personally, our boy Roy couldn’t understand why Meta would waste so many hours on Luigi.  Since he was so super, he could take care of himself, couldn’t he?  Why did he have to bother Meta Knight all of the time?  Because he was wise and a skilled warrior?  A lot of Smashers were skilled warriors?  So, how come Luigi didn’t lay his weary head on one of their shoulders and leave Roy’s boyfriend be?

              He forced himself to see things Meta’s way.  Luigi hadn’t led an easy life, and if it weren’t for his friends, he probably would’ve been worse off.  He needed Meta’s wisdom to supplement his brother’s comfort.  How else was he going to navigate this rocky terrain?

              But Meta was spending less and less time with Roy and more and more time with Luigi.  Yes, Luigi was involved with Daisy, but hey, you’ll never know till it’s too late, right?  Roy was already walking a tightrope with the man in green as it was—so far, they were in a good place, but the Red Lion would soon be catapulted to the point of no return once the green-clad plumber discovered his sordid secret!

 

**Flashback—2001**

              Roy glared at the pink puffball.  “What do you want?” he growled.

              “Poyo,” replied Kirby, extending an appendage to him.  He could see that the Red Lion was in a bad mood, and he hated seeing anyone like that.  Perhaps he could do something.

              “This is none of your bees-wax,” huffed Roy, “so why don’t you stay out of it?”

              Kirby frowned.  If Roy was this grouchy, then something was definitely wrong.  “Poyo, poyo,” he said.

              Roy broke into sharp laughter.  “Wow, Kirby!  Thanks a lot!” he snapped.  “Glad to see that some low-tier trash cares about me!”

              Kirby’s mouth flew open.  “Poyo!” he said sharply.  This wasn’t like Roy at all!  “Poyo, poyo, po-poyo, poyoyo!”

              “You, me— _friends_?!” Roy sounded incredulous.  “Who on Naga’s green earth would want to be friends with a filthy casual like you?!  You suck—in every sense of the word!”

              The rosaceous color drained from Kirby’s face.  He couldn’t believe what he was hearing!

              “P—poyo…?”

              “What are you even doing here, anyway?!  Get lost!  Take a hike!  Go back where you came from!  I’m sick of looking at your face!”  On those words, Roy chased Kirby out of the room.  “Filthy casual!  Filthy casual!  FILTHY CASUAL!”

              The phrase pursued Kirby as he puffed as quickly as he could back to his room, where he locked the door and sobbed into his pillow.

              That night, Roy was horrified that he made poor Kirby cry and sought out the Melee bottom tier at dinner.  “Kirby?” he asked, cautiously.

              Kirby’s bean-shaped eyes shot daggers at him.  “Poyo?” he demanded.

              “I’m sorry I spoke to you like that earlier,” sighed Roy.  “I was in a bad mood because—my father died.  He took such good care of me…”  His eyes filled with tears.

              “Poyo, poyo, poyoyo.”

              “I know.  I know that was no excuse.  Just—please—forgive me?”

              Kirby bit his lip.  “Poyo,” he replied cryptically as he gathered his tray and puffed himself away from the Red Lion.

              The young Star Warrior had been distant with Roy ever since, proof that he’d never fully forgiven him for his words that day.  Like most transgressors, Roy took the easy way and pretended that his outburst never happened, praying and hoping against hope that nobody would ever find out—

 

**Present**

              “Are you ready?” asked Meta.

              “Yeah,” said Roy.  “Yeah.”

              Meta scrutinized Roy.  “Is something bothering you?”

              Roy shrugged.  “Perhaps that’s a topic you’d like to discuss with _him_ this afternoon.”

              “Roy, _mi amor_ —L and I are just friends.  You have nothing to be jealous or insecure over,” Meta said sternly.

              “Yeah, well—just don’t blow off our date just because he’s running to you with his Sobstory of the Day.”

              “Roy!  He brought us to each other!  Don’t you think he deserves some gratitude for that?”

              “Yeah, but that gives him no excuse to treat you like Dear Abby,” grumbled Roy.  “Which one of us is your boyfriend—me or him?”

              “You’re being ridiculous.  I no longer wish to speak to you on this subject.”  Meta turned with a swish of his cape.  “I shall see you after our matches for the day.  And on our date tonight, bring a better mood.  Whatever is plaguing you, there’s no reason for you to take it out on me.”

              The masked puffball teleported out, leaving Roy to his own thoughts.

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_One year ago…_

              “This game’s winner is—Luigi!”

              The crowd went wild.  Some even tossed him flowers.  A long time ago, this victory would’ve been met with crickets.  But tales of his grace under pressure and his nearly infallible battle strategy had finally brought him among the Smash powerhouses.  Most would brag and boast about this transition, but never Luigi.  Despite his wonderful win-loss record and his down-throw combos, Luigi remained humble, a trait which everyone liked even more.

              As Luigi posed comically, a certain blue-feathered avian clapped his wings together.  These two were pretty tight, and had been since 2001, but—being continuously comboed by the green-clad plumber was getting on his nerves!  His whole body ached, and his eye was swelling up.  Someone needed to put a leash on this guy!

              Luigi turned and smiled at his fellow Brooklynite.  “Good fight,” he said.

              “Yeah.  Good job, and congrats.”  He extended a wing, and Luigi met it with a firm hand.

              The space ace hugged Luigi and patted him amiably on the back.  “Where do you get those combos from?  Outer space?”

              Luigi dropped his eyes and blushed.  “Lots of practice,” he said shyly.

              “Well, you gotta teach me sometime, because that match was something else!”

              “Thanks!”

              “Did you know that this was the second time you beat me?”

              Luigi gave him an intense look.  “In my eyes, it’s never about winning or losing.”

              “Yeah?  Well, you seemed to enjoy doing those combos back there.”

              Luigi blinked.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

              “You know exactly what it means, man.  Count your blessings and thank your lucky Star Sprites while you can, ’cause nothing lasts forever, y’know?  Just you wait.  You won’t be posing around like a prima donna when something happens to those combos of yours.  A lot of Smashers are getting fed up with ’em, anyway!”

              The words tumbled out before he could stop him.  And as they stood there in tense, uncomfortable silence, Luigi looked at the avian pilot with a carefully expressionless face.

              “Wow,” he said flatly after a drawn-out moment.  He spun on his heel and headed for the elevators.

              “L, wait!” called the bird as he gave chase.  “I’m sorry…”

              Luigi punched the elevator call button and stood there, arms folded and staring out the window, until the elevator chimed and the doors slid open.

              His avian buddy caught up to him then.  “Luigi?”

              The plumber’s head snapped up to meet his eyes.

              “I’m sorry,” said the avian.  “Honestly, I am.”

              Luigi nodded curtly.  “I know,” he said before the elevator doors banged closed.

              For the next few days, the walls of that elevator would have large dents in it—dents from Luigi’s frustrated punches.

              Even though a year had passed since it all went down, Falco Lombardi felt like a total jerk for his outburst—even more so that it indirectly led to the brutal tragedy that was Luigi’s down throw nerf!

             


	54. Tangled Webs

              Last night had been a restless one.  Meta Knight had sent Roy to sleep on the couch.  Luigi had blasted his “bad mood” playlist while doing his thing with the Sandbags.  Mandy and Evan had stayed up late doing more research.  Master Hand, Crazy Hand and Master Core had garnered a list of Miis who had taken care of Cere while she was in hiding.  Mario, Peach and Dr. Mario had discussed Luigi in hushed voices.  And Roy and Falco had lain awake, waiting for the proverbial axe to fall.

              The restless night gave way to a sour morning.  The man in green had managed to calm down and catch a sufficient amount of “z’s”, and now he stirred and turned on his TV, hoping to catch some news.  And as soon as the TV came to life, his hopes for a good day were dashed.  His eyes popped open.  His mouth fell agape.  The news anchor and various reporters continued to discuss the headline, but Luigi hardly paid attention to their words.  He sat there, disbelieving, for a few minutes, watching the developing story.  And suddenly, boiling rage overtook him.  He swore in Italian, grabbed his remote and hurled it across the room.

              “I don’t believe this!” he snapped as he quickly dressed and tore out of his room, headed for Master Hand’s office.

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              Princess Daisy was having her morning tea when an attendant gravely handed her the daily newspaper and silently withdrew.  She unfolded it so that the front cover was facing her—and nearly dropped the scone she had in her hand.

              “Are you kidding me?!” she roared.

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              Princess Peach was primping in her bedroom when her phone sang out.  There was an incoming text from Daisy.  “Front page of the paper,” said the subject line.  Peach opened up the attachment her friend had sent to her and stared at it for a good two minutes.

              “Mario!” she called.  “You need to see this!”

              Mario peeked his head in.  “What is it?”

              “Daisy sent a text,” explained Peach, showing the attachment to her beau.

              “Mamma mia,” sighed Mario.  “I just saw it on the news after I heard Luigi yell and rush down the hall.”

              “What are we gonna do now?” Peach asked, exasperated.

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              Roy was getting ready for a long day, watching his favorite sitcom, when a news alert broke into the program.  The Red Lion clipped the Sword of Seals onto his waist and attentively watched the breaking report.  “Meh,” he shrugged.  He had bigger problems than _that_ to deal with…

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              MC passed out mugs of coffee to his sons.  “Why do I have a feeling that something bad is about to happen?” he asked.

              Crazy grunted.

              “Maybe because something is,” said Master.  “Someone’s coming.”

              “Master Hand!” yelled a familiar voice as somebody gave the door a few hard pounds.

              “Come in!” said MC.

              The door flew open, revealing the man in green, a newspaper now clutched in his hand.

              “Morning, L,” said Master.

              “Don’t ‘Morning, L’ me,” snapped Luigi.  He threw the paper onto the desk.  “Do you know about this?  Do any of you know about this?!”

              Master gawked at the front page.  “Dear God!”

              Crazy also sneaked a look.  “What the…?”

              MC snatched a glance.  “No way this is happening!”

              GET OUT OF JAIL FREE!  That was what the headline screamed above a picture of a smirking Spike, dressed to the nines, exiting a Nevada correctional facility.  There was no knowing how, but the court had overturned his conviction!

              “Even after all of that evidence?!” gasped MC.

              “And not only that,” Luigi told him in a shaky voice, “but also they expunged his record!  God knows what he’s going to do now!”

              “Probably return to Vegas and get his empire back,” grumbled Master.

              “I sat in that courtroom for weeks!” hollered Luigi.  “I spent long days, sitting in that gallery, listening to testimony from both sides!  Rather than handle it myself, I let the justice system do their job!  I even got up on the stand myself!  And how am I rewarded for my efforts and my self-control?!  With this nonsense!  They couldn’t even keep him locked up for a whole week!”

              “I’m sorry, L,” sighed Master, “but it’s all out of our hands now.”

              “ _All out of your hands?!  Are you serious?!  You mean you’re just gonna let him walk and go back to his old bullying self?!  Cerena and her friends are in danger!  Peach and Daisy are in danger!  Mario’s in danger!  Heck, everyone who testified against him is in danger?!  BUT YOU’RE GONNA LEAVE US TO FEND FOR OURSELVES AGAINST HIM?!_ ”

              “Don’t worry, we’ll make an announcement after breakfast and assign security details,” MC reassured him.

              “Yeah, because that helped Cerena, didn’t it?  It stopped her family’s lawyer from getting his hands on her, didn’t it?!”

              “Look, we tried everything, okay?” huffed Crazy.  “We took every precaution we can think of.  The only reason that happened to Cere was because maybe there was a double-crosser in our midst, and we’re trying to find out who.  But the fact of the matter is—what’s done is done.  We can’t un-convince the court to overturn Spike’s conviction.  All we can do now is pray that someone will keep a better eye on him.”

              “Well, that just brightened my day,” Luigi said sharply.  “Thanks.  Thanks a lot.”

              “Anytime,” Crazy sassed back.

              “Crazy, for God’s sake!” admonished MC.

              “I’m sorry, but I’m sick of him whining to us about every little thing that happens to him!” snapped Crazy.  “What are we, his wet nurses?!  Look—nobody likes a tattletale, and that’s no different in Smash!  How can you survive a full day’s worth of battles, especially For Glory spammers and For Glory scrubs, if you have to tell on everybody if they do something to you?  It’s making me sick!  L, do the world a favor and grow the [ _bleep_ ] up!” 

              “Crazy, we cannot condone the way these bullies have treated Luigi,” Master said firmly.  “I know the situation is frustrating, but don’t take it out on the victim.”

              “Yeah, Crazy,” added Luigi, his lip crumpling with hurt.  “Besides, it was _you_ who _insisted_ that I handle this _the right way_ , instead of doing what I _should’ve_ done a long time ago!”

              He whirled on Master and MC.  “That goes for you both, too!  You got on my case when I tried to stick up for myself and tell these people that I’ve had enough!  And now you have the _gall_ to get on my case when all I’m doing is trying to handle this the way you practically _demanded_ me to?!  _Who do you think you are?!_ ”

              “That’s enough, Luigi!” MC said sternly.  He turned to his left-hand son.  “I am surprised at you, Crazy Hand.  Apologize to Luigi, go to your room and stay there till I tell you to come out.  Immediately!”

              “Fine, fine.  Sorry, L,” grumbled Crazy before teleporting out of the office.

              “L—please accept our sincere apology,” MC said, softer this time, to Luigi.  “I didn’t think the situation would get to him like this.  Maybe he got up on the wrong side of bed this morning.”

              “ _Whatever_ the reason—he had no right to lash out at me!” Everything was rocketing to the surface now.

              “Yes, that is true, but it’s also true that the Spike situation is ancient history,” said Master.  “There’s nothing we can do about it.”

              “Except pray,” Luigi finished bitterly.  “If anyone here has the right to be frustrated, then it should be me.  Crazy Hand didn’t have to deal with his…”

              “We understand,” MC cut him off, “but perhaps in the next life, Spike will get the punishment he deserves.”

              “Yeah,” said Luigi, brightening a little.  “Maybe he will.”

              “And don’t worry about Crazy Hand,” said MC.  “I’m going to have a long talk in his room about his outburst.”

              “I hope you’re going to ground him,” seethed Luigi.

              “Oh, I will.  For a month.  But that is none of your concern.”

              “A month.  After what he said to me.”

              “If you don’t let this go, then I’m suspending you for the exact same time period,” warned Master.  In a gentler tone, he added, “I’m sure he’ll cool off before the day is over.”

              _He’d better_ , thought Luigi.  Out loud, he said, “Well, thanks for trying to help.”

              “No problem.”

              Luigi turned on his heel and walked out of the office, green fire at the edges of his fingertips.

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              “Now, you listen to me!” Peach commanded over the phone.  “I want you to go to Daisy’s castle and tell them to double the guards, double the alarm systems, double the monitors, double the surveillance—double everything!  Spike Plaxwell does not set foot inside that castle!”  She slammed the phone back into its cradle and turned to Mario.  “I had some of my Royal Guards sent to Cere’s place,” she said to him.

              “I just got off the phone with Toadsworth,” said Mario.  “He’s sending some brave Toads to guard everyone else at risk.  But you need protecting, too.”

              “I know,” sighed Peach.  “I’ll remind everyone to travel in groups for the time being.”

              “Poor Luigi,” said Mario after a while.  “Just when he’s about to find peace, boom!”

              And on those words, Luigi stormed into the room, yelling about Crazy Hand in his native tongue.

              “Bro!  What happened?!” cried Mario.

              “Crazy Hand happened!” barked Luigi.  “He lashed out at me when I came to him and Master and MC for help!”

              “What did he say?” asked Peach in a dangerously calm voice.

              “In essence—he called me a tattletale and a whiny baby and told me with an expletive to grow up!”

              Mario nearly turned the color of an eggplant.  “Mamma F—er!”

              “Mario, Luigi—don’t worry,” Peach said softly.  “I’ll take care of this.”  Her face was perfectly frozen into a regal expression—the look she gave vanquished enemies.  “You leave Crazy Hand to me.  Just—make sure Spike doesn’t harm anyone else, all right?”

              Luigi smiled.  “With pleasure.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              “That was just rude,” said MC.  “What you said to Luigi.  Implied that he was a tattletale and a baby and cursing at him—that was uncalled for.”

              “Why doesn’t he help himself instead of expecting us to solve his problems?” sniffed Crazy.

              “Luigi was right.  We encouraged him to seek our help instead of taking matters into his own hands,” MC said softly.  “Just—try to see things his way.  He placed his faith in the justice system—the police, the court, the department of corrections—and they failed him.  They failed him by letting a guilty man go free.”

              “I bet he’s crying a freaking river to his big brother,” snorted Crazy.  “What is Mario gonna do—burn me?”

              “Crazy, are you going to listen to me, or are you going to keep getting an attitude?” asked MC.  “You’re already grounded for a month.”

              “Well, _excuse me_ for telling the truth,” snapped Crazy.

              “Two months,” MC snapped back.  “Want to make it three?”

              “Do I look like a give a…”

              “That’s four months.  I expect an apology, both to me and to Luigi—a _sincere_ apology—by dinnertime.  Now, you can think about what you just said.”  MC teleported out of Crazy Hand’s room before he could lose his temper and do something he couldn’t undo.

              “Well?” asked Master.

              “He’s in a mood,” said MC.

              “Maybe I can get through to him,” offered Master.

              “No,” sighed MC.  “There’s no reasoning with him right now.  Just—let him get that foolishness out of his system while he can, because I have no time to put up with it.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Luigi’s lineup for the day got his mind off of Crazy’s cruel words, for a while at least.

              At Kalos Pokémon League, he faced off against Charizard, whom he’d known since the Fire-type was a little Charmander in a Pokèball.  Fire clashed with fire as the two dueled, Luigi focusing his emotions inward rather than letting them flame out of control.  He was so mad at Crazy—so mad at the justice system and most of all, mad at Spike.  But would getting mad help him win against an intimidating orange dragon?  No.  His anger became fuel and power, and he was truly a sight for sore eyes at Kalos that day, defying the hulking Fire-type’s fiery power, rock throwing and other attacks and laying all sorts of combos on him, winning by a mere knockout.  After the award’s ceremony, Charizard nudged him with one of his wings and gave him a statuette he’d carved out of one of his rocks, purring gently.  Luigi was touched and thanked him.

              After Charizard, Luigi engaged in an old-fashioned slugfest with Little Mac at the Punch Out Arena.  These two New Yorkers, Italian-Americans and underdogs, one from Brooklyn, one from the Bronx, spared absolutely nothing with each other.  Trapping each other against the ropes, bloodying each other, blackening eyes and even fracturing a few things.  This—this was the kind of release Luigi needed right now, and he yelled furiously as he slammed and was slammed by the Bruiser from the Bronx.  The victor was decided when Mac side-B’ed off the stage (surprise, surprise).  But Mac was cool about it.  The two green clad New Yorkers smiled and shook hands when it was over and agreed that they should do that again sometime.

              Next up was a showdown with Pac-Man at Pac Maze.  Actually, the duo spent more time dealing with Inky, Blinky, Pinky and Sue than beating each other up.  Pac would get a Power Dot, and then Luigi would break a Smash Ball so he could vacuum up the ghosts and fire them Pac’s way.  When their fooling around led to a Sudden Death, the four ghosts were all but forgotten as blows started flying in earnest.  Pac-Man won, but not before snapping a selfie with Luigi at his home stage.

              Luigi retreated to the Training Area and sparred with Evan, and then Mandy, before heading to lunch.

              After lunch, it was off to Orbital Gate Assault for a free-for-all with the Star Fox duo of Fox and Falco.  Here, things got kinda weird.  Luigi remembered Falco saying something about his down throw combos to him about a year ago, sardonically stating that he’d better appreciate them before they were gone for good.  And a month or so after the avian’s little rant was the Triple One Massacre.  What an odd coincidence!  Well, no time to think about that now.  Fox and Falco were quick on their feet, sharp with their Blaster fire and innovative with the stage layout.  Luigi had to rely on his fireballs a lot when they were in the mood to team up, even though it was a free-for-all.  But somehow, in that heated battle, the memory of Falco’s barbs struck him like a fistblow, and he lost it a little bit on his fellow Brooklynite.  At the end of the battle, Luigi’s beatdown left Falco in third place.  Fox took second, and the man in green took first.

              “Wow—you were pretty good,” Falco said to him as the three shook hands.

              “Yeah, man—amazing job out there,” agreed Fox.

              Luigi accepted the compliments, and then fixed a meaningful look on the avian.  “Guess I’m still a powerhouse, huh?”

              “Uh-huh.  You are.”

              After they hugged it out and parted ways, Luigi couldn’t help but wonder—why did he start thinking about that exchange again?  Was it adrenaline?  Stress?

              Was it a sign??

              He did an excellent job of forgetting about it during the next battle, though—another free-for-all against Bayo and Ryu at the Umbra Clock Tower.  Fighting these two characters left no time for reminiscing.  They kept him on his toes, occupied, so that all of him was on the battle.  The fierce, wild fray blasted the bulk of Luigi’s aggression stemming from the incident that morning.  It was serious business, fighting a tireless wanderer and a formerly-overpowered Umbra Witch.  Despite her recent nerf, Bayo was still pretty strong, eventually clinching the win, with Luigi winding up in third place.  He didn’t mind.

              “I heard about what Crazy said to you,” said Ryu.  “I’m sorry.”

              “I’m past it now,” said Luigi, but Ryu knew better.

              “I’ll fight him for you,” he offered.  “Despite our false start, you’ve become one of my friends.  I can’t let him get away with mistreating you.”

              Luigi smiled at Ryu’s sense of chivalry.  “Thanks, but no thanks,” he replied.

              Bayo gave him a friendly squeeze.  “Just know that we’re looking out for you,” she said.

              “Okeydokey.”

              Luigi’s second-to-last match of the day was another one-on-one—against our boy Roy.  The man in green wanted to confront the Red Lion over his distant attitude and his jealousy issues with Meta, but the Pyrosphere wasn’t the place for such a confrontation.  The hot climate brought both fighters’ blood to a boil, as Roy showed no mercy with his flaming Sword of Seals and Luigi met his opponent’s steel with his steady fists.  The Red Lion scored assisted KO’s by throwing the man in green into the lava, smiling as he heard Luigi interject from the pain.  Luigi didn’t like Roy’s little attitude, and he made sure to communicate that to him throughout the fight.  He started mulling on how Kirby hadn’t spent much time with Roy during the last months of Melee and since his return last year.  Flashes of memory started occurring to him.  Hearing Roy shouting about something.  Seeing Kirby run down the hallway, crying.  Kirby outright avoiding Roy and really letting him have it during matches.  Overhearing the Red Lion’s grumbles about “bottom tier trash”.  Roy had been called a Marth clone in those days, so was he taking that out on others?  If he was, then why?  And why did a username suspiciously similar to Roy’s nickname pop out at Luigi while he was reporting the “filthy casual” comments on the old Smash blog?

              Roy hacked angrily at Luigi, who expertly retaliated with his reliable Smash attacks.  With each blow he landed, Luigi was shocked beyond belief when he suddenly began to recall the scars he saw on Kirby during those dark times, small and imperceptible at first, and then appearing all over his round body.  Kirby had attempted to skirt the issue and use the Melee matches as excuses, but Luigi _knew_.  An intuitive part of his brain _knew_ because Kirby was so young and naïve; he had no freaking idea what a tier list meant except that being last was _bad_ , and these tournament fanatics made him feel like he was _nothing_.  He’d debated asking Master Hand to give Kirby plastic knives instead of regular ones, and he’d noticed that the pattern of those scars closely resembled the Final Cutter.  He’d warned the tournament fanatics, both online and in person, to back off of Kirby, but why would they listen to Player Two?  And finally came the night where he’d walked in on Kirby in the act, so there was no denying it.  Luigi had gaped at the horror of it—the blood and the wounds and the tears in Kirby’s eyes—and after wrestling the Final Cutter from Kirby’s appendages and finally confronting him, the fluffball had broken down and confessed.  Immediately, Luigi had summoned Dr. Mario and placed distress calls to Meta Knight.  It was the memory of the masked knight helping Kirby through this crisis which spurred both Kirby and Luigi to put his name up for consideration to Master Hand in 2008.

              But of all the times to remember that— _why_?

              Whatever the reason, it burned in Luigi as he and Roy fought till they simply couldn’t take anymore of each other.  Luigi won by default, and Roy was so upset that he stormed off before the plumber could offer him a handshake.

              “Stars!  What is _wrong_ with him?!” Luigi demanded in exasperation.

              Master Hand shrugged.  “I think he and Meta are having some problems,” he said.

              “Then why don’t they talk to Dr. Mario about it?” asked Luigi.  “How come the first impulse is to take it out on me?  Meta’s certainly not doing that!”

              “I’ll talk to him,” said Master Hand before seeking out the Red Lion.

              Luigi’s final match of the day was a special Stamina match, against four opponents of his choice at a stage of his choice.  For the opposition, he chose Mandy, Evan, Peach and Mario.  For the stage, he selected his mansion.  All five fighters had 300 HP.  Battling four of his friends in Stamina Mode was the perfect close to a rough day.  By the time the fight ended in Mandy’s favor, it was almost time for dinner.

              He’d taken a soothing shower and changed clothes, and was on his way to the cafeteria when Crazy Hand intercepted him.

              “Hey, L,” said the glove.  “I need to talk to you.  Explain things.”

              Luigi shrugged.  “Didn’t you say what you had to say this morning?”

              “That’s what I mean.  I was out of line.  I shouldn’t have raised my voice or cursed at you.  But I—I was so frustrated—and you’re always contradicting us—I don’t know if we can ever reach a compromise at this rate.  Someone had to snap sooner or later—and that someone was _moi_.”

              “So—that’s your apology?” Luigi asked tonelessly.

              “I meant what I said,” said Crazy.  “I just—didn’t mean for it to come out that way.  It was harsh, I know, but it was the truth.”

              “And the truth is that I’m not buying any of those lame excuses for a minute,” Luigi shot back.  “Now, are you sorry for lashing out at me, or not?”

              “I—I—I don’t know,” said Crazy.  “What I _do_ know is that somehow, I’m gonna make this right.  I don’t care what it takes—I’ll find a way to make up for what’s been done.”

              “Good, because it must’ve been embarrassing, your old man treating you like a kid in a Smasher’s presence,” Luigi said pointedly.  “You have yourself a nice night, Crazy Hand.”

              Smartly, he continued to the cafeteria.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              “Hello,” said Daisy.  “Who am I speaking to?”

              “My name is Amanda Rochelle Vidad.  My friends call me Mandy.”

              “Hey, I know you!  How are you, Mandy?”

              “Uh—not that great.  I would like to report a heinous crime committed in your dominion, Princess.”

              “Of course.  I appreciate efforts to make my kingdom a safer place.  Who is the perpetrator of this crime?”

              “Spike Plaxwell.”

              “Which makes me wonder why they overturned his conviction.  How long ago did he commit this crime?”

              “It was a repeat offense.  The first time he committed it was a few months ago.”

              “A repeat offense?  And who was the victim of this crime?”

              “You, Your Majesty.”

              Daisy spat out her drink.  “Beg pardon?”

              “Just—bear with me here, Princess.”

              “Spike has never laid hands on me, Mandy.  And he never will,” vowed Daisy.

              “That’s what you think.  Because you don’t _remember_ him laying hands on you.”

              “What are you saying?”

              “You, um, were in a state of deep sleep when it happened.  You know—let’s just start from the beginning.  Spike was supposed to be remanded without bail—but did you know he had a double?”

              “No.”

              “Every night before his trial, he’d bribe the guards to turn their backs while he switched places with this double.  And off he’d go to Sarasaland.  Then, he’d sneak into your castle, slither his way into your chambers—I’ll stop there if you like.”

              “No, please, go on,” Daisy said tightly.

              “My husband and I did some digging—and we found some pretty nasty stuff.  Lots of videos and photos.  I’m forwarding it all to you right now.”

              “Uh—okay,” Daisy said uneasily.  Seconds later, she got a new e-mail notification.

              There was a subtle _click_ which caused Daisy to snap her head up.  “Hold on.  Did you hear that?  Someone else is on the line,” she said.  “Okay, who just got on this line?  I know you’re there—I can hear you breathing!  It’s quiet, but I can hear it!  Who is this, and what do you want?”

              “Hi, Daisy,” said Luigi’s voice.

              “God.  Luigi?!” gasped Mandy.  “How did you…?”  She paused.  “Well, you might as well find out now.  Here, let me forward you this stuff.”

              “So, Spike had a double?” asked Luigi.

              “Yeah, to take his place while he—just watch the videos, and you’ll find out,” spluttered Mandy.

              At the same time, Luigi and Daisy clicked on the attachments Mandy sent them.

              “OH, GOD!”

              For Luigi, it was his worst nightmare come true—Koopa’s last stand was tame compared to this!  Where was security as Spike slunk around in Daisy’s castle when he was supposed to be in custody?  Were prison guards so pliable that a few greenbacks would corrupt them?  And Daisy—fast asleep and helpless as Spike crept into her bedchambers and—

              Mandy could hear Luigi dry-heave and wished she’d just called him into the room so he wouldn’t have to deal with this alone.  She looked over at Evan, who gave her a sympathetic look.  They knew that their friend would be livid upon discovering this, but as long as this ultimately led to Spike’s demise, they could see no reason to complain!

              “Luigi, I…” Daisy tried not to vomit.  “I’ve had all sorts of _dreams_ about you.  I think I remember now.  And whatever he was doing must’ve assimilated into my dream and made me—oh, Luigi!”

              “And nobody ever said a word,” gasped Luigi.  “ _Princesa_ , don’t you worry.  That psychopath will never touch you again.  You have my word.”

              “Thank you, Luigi,” breathed Daisy.  “Where could he be, though?”

              “What do you think?  Celebrating.  Mandy, thanks for telling us.  I’m eager to hear what the Hands have to say for allowing this to happen.  Of course, they had no way of knowing, I’ll give them that, but I’m interested in their reaction when I show all of this to them.  Especially Crazy Hand.”

              “Judging by what happened this morning, why bother showing them?” grumbled Evan.

              “I agree,” murmured Luigi.

              “When can I see you, L?” asked Daisy.

              “Later tonight,” replied Luigi.  “I should’ve been there.  I would’ve heard him; stopped him…”

              “Some sort of magic powder had been dissolved into her drink,” Mandy gravely reported.  “There’s reason to believe Spike had someone working for him from the inside.”

              “Well, when I find him, he’d better explain himself before I sentence him to a public execution!” snapped Daisy.

              “Good luck finding him before I do,” Luigi said playfully.

              “You, too, L.  I think I’ll enjoy your company tonight.”

              “Ditto, Daisy.  But I have to take care of something first…”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              They thought they’d caged him for good.  Fools!  No prison could hold Spike Plaxwell!  Today would be all about relaxation and recuperation from that awful place.  Tomorrow—the hunt would begin!  And what a bloody hunt it would be…

              This hotel wasn’t as luxurious as his Vegas suite, but it was clean, and it was all his.  He spent 70 minutes soaking up in a nice, warm bath with sweetly scented suds.  He shaved off the stubble that his brief stay in prison had accumulated.  He tweezed his eyebrows so that they were at the right thinness.  He applied lotion to soften his skin.  And he dressed in one of the Italian suits he managed to salvage.  After his primping, he ordered a lobster dinner from room service and reclined in his chair with the radio on, dreaming about his plans for the succeeding days, which would involve a mutinous former fiancée, a green-clad plumber and his super brother, a tomboyish Princess whose taste lingered still on his tongue, her peachy best friend and every last person who had turned on him and sent him to that horrid place.  Cere was right—the inmates had started in on him as soon as he was situated.  Thank goodness the overturned conviction came quickly—he probably wouldn’t have lasted a month in there!

              But that was in the past, and now they would pay.  He didn’t suffer through the brief torture in vain.  Starting tomorrow, he would become the torturer.  Luigi and his fans would wish they were never born—and that went triple for Cere, the clever fox who’d sprung that trap!

              First, however, he needed nourishment and rest.  Then, the fun would start.

              Spike stirred at the friendly knock on the door.  “Room service!  I have your lobster dinner!”

              “Coming!”  Spike stood, stretched and strode to the door.

              “Right on time, I’m fam…” The words died on his tongue as soon as he opened his door to reveal who was on the other side.

              Luigi, once again wearing green, stood there with a platter on a cart.  There was no rage on his face as he smiled at Spike.  “Welcome back to civilization, Spike,” he said cordially.  “You must be hungry after enduring all of that prison food.  Allow me to recommend our special.”

              He lifted the lid from the platter and shoved the cart forward so that the smell could reach Spike’s nostrils.  Spike gagged and recoiled, trying to retreat back into his room, but Luigi forced the door back open with the cart, following his enemy back inside.

              “Why, don’t be like that, Spike.  It would be rude to the chef who prepared it specially for you,” cooed Luigi, still calm and composed.

              “Oh, God,” rasped Spike as he stared at the “meal” on the platter—the grotesquely mutilated remains of his holding cell double.

              “Now, now—don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” admonished Luigi, stabbing into a chunk of flesh and muscle with a fork and holding it out to Spike.  “Here.  Have a taste.”

              Spike screamed and kicked the cart into Luigi, and then rushed to the phone to call for help.

              A gloved finger pressed the “hang-up” button.

              “Nobody’s going to help you, Spike,” Luigi said softly.  “Not anymore.”

              Spike growled and swung the phone at Luigi, but the plumber ducked each swing, grabbed him by the neck, threw him onto the bed and pinned him there, finally letting his long-repressed anger manifest as his fists collided with Spike’s face and body over and over until the villain’s grip on the phone slackened.  Luigi easily grabbed it from him and used that to wreck him up some more, jabbing it like his forward smash into Spike’s chest cavity.  Once he’d had enough, he sliced a Maxim tomato in half and shoved one half down Spike’s throat to partially heal him.  Next, he tied Spike’s wrists to the headboard and his ankles to the footboard.  _Now_ , the real fun could begin.

              Luigi wheeled the “dish” over to Spike’s bedside and deftly sliced it up like a fancy dinner, forcing Spike to watch.  Then, he took the plate and cutlery and straddled Spike, once again stabbing the fork into the “meat” and holding it before Spike’s mouth.  “Time to be a good boy and eat, okay?” he said.

              Spike tried to refuse, but Luigi wouldn’t have it.  He grabbed Spike’s chin and held it in place, forced his mouth open and shoved the fork in.  Tears came to Spike’s eyes as he was forced to chew and swallow the bite.  Methodically, Luigi shoveled forkful after forkful of this into his tormentor’s mouth, remembering how this man had forced himself on Cere and countless others even though they said “no”.  So why should he take “no” for an answer when _he_ didn’t?

              But Luigi was merciful enough to only make Spike eat the limbs, some organs and the “beans and frank” rather than the whole body.  That was because it was only the appetizer.

              “We’re just getting started,” he said as he wheeled in a second platter, which contained—

              …what was left of Spike’s inside man in Sarasaland.

              “He was easy to find, actually,” Luigi said matter-of-factly as Spike gagged in horror.  “You know the drill, Spikey.  Eat up!”

              This time, he force-fed Spike _everything_.  If he tried to spit it up or vomited, then Luigi would yell and start pounding on him again.  “Do you remember doing something like this to your fiancée?” he snapped.  “Punishing her for throwing up or refusing to eat food she obviously didn’t want?!  It’s not as enjoyable when you’re on the receiving end, isn’t it?!  And what else did you do to my fans, hmm?  How else did you bully them and make them miserable like you did to me?!”

              Spike struggled against his bonds, but Luigi was an ace at square knots.  Halfway through the meal, Luigi paused, got out his iPhone, and played all of Spike’s favorite songs as he continued with his punishment.  This man had escaped justice from the law, but he could never escape justice from the mustachioed man in green!

              “God, L, please!” shrieked Spike as the forkfuls kept coming.  “Turn that off—change it—I don’t wanna hear anymore—turn it off—for God’s sake, turn it off!”

              “Almost done, buddy,” Luigi reassured him, stroking his cheek tenderly.

              He saved the head for last.  Lips, chin, nose, cheeks, forehead and finally eyes—no part was going to waste!  After the last forkful, Luigi smirked at Spike.  “Now, that wasn’t too bad, was it?”

              Spike responded by spitting the mouthful of his “dish” in the plumber’s face.

              “Oh.”  Luigi blinked and wiped the mess away.  “Now you’ve done it.  _Now_ you’ve done it…”

              The same thing he told Cere and the others after they tried something.  Now he felt real fear for the first time in his life.

              Luigi got rid of the plate and then swiveled back around to face Spike.  And as soon as the bound man saw what the one in green had in his hand—

              “No!  Please, don’t do that to me!  Please!”

              “How many times did Cerena say that?” asked Luigi as he peeled off Spike’s clothes.  Within a minute, he had him totally exposed.  “This was one of your favorite things to do to her, wasn’t it?  Wasn’t it?!”

              And then the steak knife tore into Spike’s flesh as he screamed and wailed, Luigi dragging the serrated edge down and along his naked body again and again.  He carved deep into his chest, deep into his abdomen, deep into his hips and sides.  He sliced at the shoulders, biceps, forearms, thighs and calves.  Pain shot through his legs when Luigi got both of his Achilles tendons.  And once his entire body had been cut up, Luigi set the steak knife aside and held up the salt shaker—

              “Please, no!”

              “Oh?  You don’t want me to do this?”

              Spike whimpered and shook his head.

              “Too bad.  Luigi time!”

              He pulled the cap off the salt shaker and emptied the contents all over the raw body, rubbing the granules in nice and deep with the motions of a professional masseuse.  Spike writhed on the bed, tears pouring down his face, begging Luigi to stop.  But Cerena and his other victims had begged him the same thing, and did he listen?  No.  Karma was biting him hard, and he knew it.

              Luigi rubbed and rubbed for about forty-five minutes before shoving Spike hard onto his side, cleaning the steak knife and then ripping into his back with it, carefully avoiding the kidneys or anywhere that might cause paralysis.  Once the back was as sliced as the front, Luigi withdrew a whole can of iodized salt and repeated the process like a twisted spa treatment, flipping Spike back onto his front to finish out the can.

              Finally, that part of the ordeal was over.  Luigi licked a finger and then stuck it into the nearly-empty can, coating it in some of the leftover granules.  He noticed that Spike had closed his eyes, and enraged, he forced the eyelids back open and jabbed the salty finger into both eyes three times each.  Spike roared, and Luigi trailed the finger down the slashed and salted body, lower and lower and lower until…

              …he found the crevice that he was looking for.  He paused, smiling coldly up at Spike.  “Normally, I’d abhor doing something like this,” he said, “but you—you’re a notable exception.  So knuckle tight, because this is going to be very, _very_ painful!”

              Roughly, he shoved the finger in and began twisting and thrusting it in and out and Spike continued screaming.  Ten minutes later, Luigi had wet his whole hand and coated it with the last of the salt, clenched it into a fist, and then—well, there’s no need to finish, is there?

              With his free hand, Luigi grabbed the napkin from the tray, used it to scrape up the salt granules clinging to the bottom and shoved it into Spike’s mouth.  His muffled cries were unheeded and unanswered as Luigi gave him more and more of what he deserved.  The retribution progressed through the hours.  Spike now had bruises and burn marks accentuating the deep cuts.  Luigi had even offered up some quick slices to the face and practically bisected his nose.  And where his fist was—now, there was a Luigi amiibo.

              “I’m sorry, Luigi,” sobbed Spike.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.  Please—I’m sorry!”

              “You are now,” Luigi retorted, “but I’m afraid it’s too late for that.  It’s _many years_ too late!”

              He grasped the Luigi amiibo and gave it one last savage twist.

              “That’s from Daisy!  You remember her, right?  Too bad she was under a sleep spell by that magic powder—perhaps she could’ve remembered you.”

              And finally, he had one last go at Spike’s face with his fists before snatching the napkin out of his mouth and dropping it to the floor.

              “Enjoy your freedom—however short it is.”

              On those icy parting words, Luigi turned away from Spike and stormed out of the room, slamming the door after him.

              And as soon as Luigi left, Spike Plaxwell breathed his last.


	55. Closing In

**_One year ago…_ **

              “Hi, I’d like to make a reservation for tonight.”

              “Sure, how many?”

              “For two, please.”

              “What time?”

              “Oh, ’bout 11:30 or so.  Listen, I need your help with something.”

              “Of course, sir.”

              “One of my friends will be accompanying me tonight, and—well…”

              “Ah, I see.  You and your friend had a quarrel?”

              “Yeah—I said some unkind words to him, and—I want to apologize.”

              “If you don’t mind my asking—what food does your friend like?”

              “Well, spaghetti, lots of it.  And ravioli.  And pizza.  I guess—all sorts of Italian cuisine.”

              “Then you couldn’t have called at a better time, sir!  Right now, we have a special promotion going on—the Pasta n’ Pizza Combo for 2.  That’s your choice of pizza, your choice of pasta, plus two drinks, two salads or soups and two desserts—all for the simple price of 10G.”

              “Hm.  We both like pasta n’ pizza, so I’ll take it.  And if we could get a private booth…”

              “Yes, sir—we have private booths available.  And your name, sir?”

              “Lombardi.”

              “Lombardi, table for two, at 11:30.  All right, you’re all set.  See you there.”

              “Thanks.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Dressed to the nines, Falco Lombardi sat at his table in a posh Italian restaurant, sipping from a glass of water.  He glanced up at the sound of footsteps and smiled.  It was his friend.

              “L,” he said, rising to greet him with a friendly handshake and a hug.

              Luigi was also dressed to the nines, his hair slicked down.  He returned Falco’s embrace and stepped back to study him.  With those eloquent, baby blue eyes.

              “I’m glad you could make it,” said Falco.  “You look handsome.”

              “And so do you,” responded Luigi, his face kind, gentle—forgiving.

              The plumber and the avian took their seats at their table and helped themselves to the complimentary bread and butter.

              “How did you know I’m wild about this place?” asked Luigi.

              “First guess,” Falco responded without a beat.  “Hey, they’re having their pasta and pizza combo thingy going on.  Interested?”

              “Wow—you’re really after my own heart!” gushed Luigi.  “What’s the occasion?”

              “Do I need an occasion to have a friendly meal with a fellow Smasher?” Falco asked coyly.

              “Contrary to what you think, you don’t have a good poker face,” Luigi said smartly.  “There _has_ to be something behind this.  Seriously—what’s happening?”

              “Yeah—you got me.  There’s something behind this, actually.”  Falco cleared his throat.  “I saw this as a perfect opportunity to apologize—properly—for the words I threw at you this afternoon.  Despite being flustered over your combos, that was plain—unacceptable.”

              “Indeed, it was,” replied Luigi.

              “I had no reason and no right to act salty over it.”

              “No.  You didn’t.”

              “At the very least, I should’ve gone to the Training Area to practice or asked Fox for advice.”

              “Advice on how to beat me, huh?”

              “Luigi—I saw the look on your face when I said those words.  And I’m telling you, they just slipped out before I could stop them.  I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I didn’t mean to upset you.”

              “Regardless, you did.”

              “I’m really, really sorry for that, L.  I was out of line.  We’ve been friends for years—fourteen years!  Heck, we both hail from Brooklyn!  To fall out over something as trivial as a Smash battle—would be preposterous.”

              Luigi took a sip of his own water.  And then he gazed back at Falco with his eyes—his lovely, blue, gentle, understanding and forgiving eyes.  His facial expression had gradually softened as the avian spoke.

              “Falco—it was very sweet of you to do this,” he said finally, “but really, it was nothing.  You were just hot over the match, and I knew that you probably didn’t mean what you said.  I’ve been over it for a few hours now.  Still, it was lovely to hear you actually apologize.  A lot of people don’t.”

              “You’re one of the best out there, L,” Falco went on.

              “Okay, now you’re just buttering me up.  Just be lucky that I didn’t tell Mario on you.”

              “Oh, yeah—I’m a lucky bird!”

              “You’re also fortunate that there was surveillance in that room—otherwise, I would’ve really let you have it,” Luigi went on, half-jokingly.

              Falco laughed.  “I have seen you trounce fighters considerably larger and stronger than you.  I know you don’t play around!”

              “But really—can we stop talking about it?  Apologizing won’t unsay your little rant, you know.  The least we can do is put it behind us, move forward and in your case, think before you let words fly out of your beak, yes?”

              “Yes.  It will never happen again,” promised Falco, a beak over his heart.  “Now, would you like me to order us some wine while we wait for our pasta and pizza to arrive?”

              It was a lovely dinner that night.  The two Italian-American Brooklynites spoke more of that afternoon’s kerfuffle as they noshed on pasta and pizza, sipped champagne and discussed all sorts of things ranging from the news to business to sports and to politics.  Then, there was rich chocolate cake for dessert, with a big scoop of vanilla ice cream on the side.  They stayed there, talking and talking, until it was nearly closing time.  As they returned to the Smash Mansion, Falco was relieved that his friendship with Luigi had been mended—and full.

              Unbeknownst to him, the armistice would be short-lived…

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

_Present Day_

              It was breakfast time in the Smash Mansion, and the cafeteria was hopping.  On the menu today were hash browns and build-your-own omelets.  There were several omelet stations scattered throughout the room, and the friendly Miis wearing aprons showed the Smashers how to use them.  After they made their omelets, more Miis leveled a big spoonful of hash browns onto their plates, and then they were all set, save for their beverages.

              Our boy Roy strolled to his table, plate in hand, and froze when he saw Meta Knight at Luigi’s table, talking to him and his friends without a care.  Internally, he seethed, but he dared not flip out.  With outward calm, he approached them and asked, “Hello.  Is there room enough for one more?”

              “There is, but you need to explain yourself first,” Peach spoke up, hands on her hips.

              “What do you mean?” asked Roy.

              “Poyo, poyo, popoyo poyo!” snapped Kirby.

              “Kirby, I’ve got this,” Peach assured the fluffball.  Turning back to Roy, she explained, “Why are you having issues with Luigi all of a sudden?  You’re avoiding him and taking an increasingly hostile stance.  It’s taking a toll on Sir Meta Knight!”

              “ _Sì_.  He didn’t seem bothered by my spending time with Luigi until recently.  He seems to think that I’ve forgotten about him—and I haven’t.”

              “What makes you think I’m trying to steal Meta from you?” Luigi asked, gently.  “I’m already spoken for.  Meta and I are friends and nothing more.”

              Roy gaped.  “You _told_ them?” he asked his masked boyfriend.

              “You’re lucky I haven’t told Master Hand yet,” Meta said calmly.  “Consider this a warning to get your stuff together—before you lose me for good.”  He softened his tone, flew over to Roy and caressed his face with his gloved hands.  “Don’t let this come between us, _mi amor_.  Your little feud with Luigi ends today, no questions asked.”

              Kirby visibly bristled upon seeing Meta getting all lovey-dovey with the Red Lion.  Luigi took him into his lap to reassure him.

              Roy pouted.  “All right.  You win.  Just—stop coddling him like a baby, would you?  No wonder Crazy Hand went off on him yesterday.”

              “For what it’s worth, I was giving advice, as a friend would do to another,” said Meta, “and furthermore, would you not bring that up?  We’re all trying to forget about it.”

              Before Roy could protest, Meta slightly pulled up his mask and claimed the redhead’s lips.  Our boy Roy’s eyes glazed over.  He was putty in the masked knight’s hands.  Breakfast all but forgotten, Meta growled into Roy’s ear, “Your bedroom.  Now.”

              “Yes,” breathed Roy, feeling himself stir to life down there.  He wanted—needed—this puffball so much!  Cradling Meta close to his chest, Roy exited the cafeteria, leaving his tray behind. 

              “Aww, I just love make-ups,” purred Peach.  Her blue eyes turned to Kirby.  “Kirby, are you all right?”

              Kirby clung to Luigi as if he was drowning.  “Poy,” he said.

              “Look, I know you’re worried about Meta.  He’s been so good to you,” said Peach, “but Roy just promised to get his act together, didn’t he?  He’ll change if it means keeping their relationship intact, won’t he?”

              Douglas nodded.  “I used to be a bit proud and arrogant myself,” he confessed, “but I realized that I was pushing Sammy away, so I vowed to better myself.  And I did.”

              Samus put her hand over his.  “Darn right you needed some attitude improvement.  Remember that Team Battle we lost to Ness and Kirby?”

              Falcon rolled his eyes.  “Don’t ever let me forget.  That was a wake-up call.”

              “Yes, because who did you blame for the loss?” Samus asked pointedly.

              “Ah, Sammy.  Am I ever gonna live that down?”

              Samus kissed him on the cheek.  “We’ll see,” she teased.  “But, yeah—if Roy loves Meta as much as Douglas loves me, then he’ll surely change his ways.”

              “Maybe that’s what’s bothering Kirby,” postulated Reflet.  “That Roy doesn’t really loved Meta the way he loved Marth.  That he’s just—the rebound knight.”

              “Interesting.  I never really thought about that,” mused Cloud.

              But Luigi shook his head.  “When I saw Roy looking at Meta like that—I knew what he was feeling was genuine.  Why else did I nudge them towards each other?”

              Yet deep down—he was starting to regret that he had.

              “Kirby,” Luigi went on.  “We both have a full day of battles ahead of us.  But we’re going to have a talk about this later today.  In my room.  Is that clear?”

              “Poyo,” nodded Kirby.  Feeling better, he puffed out of the plumber’s lap and Inhaled the rest of his breakfast before tottering off to get ready for the day.

              That was when Falco spoke up.  “L—are you okay?”

              “Yeah,” Luigi assured him.  “I’m fine.”

              “I mean—after what happened with Crazy Hand yesterday.  Just say the word and—well, you know.”

              Luigi sheepishly rubbed the back of his head.  “You know—a lot of Smashers offered me the same thing,” he said.  “Ryu, Bayo, Mac, Reflet, Cloud, Lucy, Fox—and of course, Mario and Peach.  But I don’t think that’s necessary.  He’s not worth it.  Thank you, though, for looking out for me.”  His gaze swept over the table’s other occupants.  “In fact—I want to thank you all for continuing to look out for me.  You’re the best friends I’ve ever had.”

              “It’s what we do, L,” Falco said joyfully.  “We may not get along sometimes, but we’ll always pull through.”

              Guilt struck him as he spoke.  He remembered how the little hissy-fit he’d thrown had been the catalyst which set the gears of a grand conspiracy into motion.  How he’d tried and failed to keep the saltiness at bay as he continued to fall victim to combo after combo, no matter what he did.  He sought advice and even watched videos on how to escape Luigi’s down throw combos, but that man in green read his every move—hard.  He was the Hard Read Master!  Not only that, he saw Fox and his other friends get trounced by him, and although they didn’t seem to mind, Falco did!  And then came the day when he jumped online and discovered that he wasn’t alone regarding his anger and salt towards Luigi’s down throw, soon coming across a secret operation to do something about it.  Secret meetings, petitions, appeals to Daddy Sakurai—and after once again getting thoroughly Super Smashed by his fellow Brooklynite, Falco Lombardi, the ace pilot of Star Fox, had decided that he wanted in.  God—don’t ever let anyone find out.

              He was sincere when he told Master Hand that the stunts he pulled during Melee were all in fun.  He’d genuinely repented of his actions after his carelessness forced him to use a continue several times, and he and Luigi had been close ever since.  Finding out that he, too, was a Brooklyn native had been the icing on the cake.  His brashness, impulsiveness and quick temper had led to moments of contention between him and the rest of Star Fox.  But fourteen years after he and Luigi met, the avian had let the saltiness over a match and a down throw get to his head, and now look what happened!  How could he tell this to Luigi—and to his team?

              “And Roy—I can’t believe he’s really acting like that,” Falco went on, forcing the thoughts away.  “Has he always been clingy with people?  He sure wasn’t like that with Marth.”

              “No, their love was strong and true, until Marth said those things about me,” Luigi said softly.  “Maybe he’s worried about his heart getting hurt again.  But what am I doing, making excuses for that kind of behavior?  Meta deserves to be treated better than that!  I wish I’d never set them up!”

              “Lu—don’t be hard on yourself,” said Mario.  “You had no way of knowing that Roy was gonna become like this.”

              “I was just going with my gut,” Luigi murmured.  “Maybe I should’ve talked to Kirby about this first.  I mean, if I’d known he’d react so strongly…”

              “But you didn’t,” Peach broke in, “and I’m sure the two of you will clear things up this afternoon.”

              “Yeah,” said Luigi.  “Maybe we will.”

              He finished his breakfast and dumped his tray.  “I’m glad that the majority of you Smashers are behind me,” he said.  “I’ll see you round, okay?”

              “Okay, L!” everyone else at the table chimed in as Luigi made his way out of the cafeteria.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

_Last night…_

              The tap of her stiletto heels echoed across the hall as she strode regally toward Crazy Hand’s room.  With each step, her dress softly swished about her.  It was dark, but she could see well enough.  She paused in his doorway and stood there, watching him sleep, hugging a teddy bear close to him.  It was the teddy bear that did it.  Her calm broke, and her body became flooded with unfiltered adrenaline and rage.  Here he was, snoring without a care, while Luigi was barely able to sleep upon returning from his—excursion.  How could he even catch a wink or a “Z”, knowing that what he’d said to the man in green that morning had pushed him back to the edge?  She also knew that teddy bear quite well.  Toadsworth had gifted a similar one to her on her third birthday, and its softness had comforted her after a bad day, after a nightmare and after a quarrel with a friend or a family member.  But as she looked upon the Hand of Destruction napping like a baby in his king-sized bed, cuddling _that_ teddy bear, after blowing a fuse and throwing a hero of _her_ dominion under the bus, Peach Toadstool snapped!  She let herself in and abruptly flicked on the lights.  “Wake up,” she barked.

              Groggily, Crazy Hand sat up.  “Oh, hey, Princess,” he mumbled.

              “Don’t ‘hey, Princess’ me,” snapped Peach.

              “Whatever this is, can it wait?” asked Crazy.  “Do you know what time it is?”

              “Do I look like I care?” Peach shot back.  She daintily stepped closer to the bed, and that’s when Crazy noticed that her hands were behind her back.  As if hiding something.

              “You and I are gonna have a little talk,” the Mushroom Princess went on, “which means—I’m doing the talking, and you’re doing the listening.”

              Crazy groaned.

              “Don’t give me that!  You’d better listen _really_ closely to what I have to say!”  Her voice became louder, angrier, as she remembered Luigi holding back tears as he described his chat with the Hands.

              “How could you do it, huh?  How could you lash out at Luigi and say those hurtful things?  For God’s sake, he’s already been through enough!  Why did you make things worse for him?”

              Crazy surreptitiously reached for the phone, but Peach saw him and actually ripped the appliance from its wiring with one hand and chucked it against a wall.

              “He’s the victim here!  Or do you not know that?  But hey, you’re the Hand of Destruction, so you don’t give a [ _bleep_ ], do you?!  Yeah, I said it!  You had no problem using that language around Luigi, so why the [ _bleep_ ] should I?!  What made you think that I wouldn’t find out about it—or that he wouldn’t tell me?!  All he was doing was what you told him to do—to let you, Master Hand and Master Core or the justice system handle it!  And when the justice system failed him and he came to you in distress, hoping you could make him feel better, what did you do?!  You threw it all in his face?!  Why?!  Because you were frustrated?!  That made you feel better?!”

              Crazy could keep quiet no longer.  “While you’re blowing up at me, you can forget about being in this tournament,” he said calmly.

              Peach blinked.  “I defy you to send me packing and keep me away from the Mario Bros,” she said, not as loudly but still angry.

              “Look, Princess, you’re upset, and you have every right to be.  But I apologized, didn’t I?  I swear, it’ll never happen again.”

              “Yeah.  That’s what they all say,” sniffed Peach.  “They always say things like that…”

              “Peach, you’re waking everybody up.  I need you to calm down and return to your room right now.”

              “So let them wake up!  I _want_ them to hear how you kicked one of my subjects when he was down!  How do you live with yourself?!  How do you sleep at night?!  Do your words echo in your head as you lay in your bed?!  Do you see Luigi’s face before your closed eyelids?!  Well, Luigi’s dealing with the former while I’m dealing with the latter!”

              “You know what, Peach?  I had good reason for reaming him out like that, and thank God I had enough sense to take further action on this matter because the thought of putting up with this for the next tournament…”

              “What?” gasped Peach, the shock on her face almost comical at what the Hand of Destruction was insinuating.

              “You heard me.  I petitioned to have your precious green-clad plumber banned from any and all future Smash tournaments!  He has no business here anymore!  So you and me—we’re finished with this conversation, now get…”

              With a primal shriek of rage, Peach brandished the object she’d hid behind her back—her frying pan—and brought it down hard on Crazy’s palm.  As he fell back, dazed, Peach leaped like a jackrabbit onto Crazy’s bed and continued to sadistically beat him, screaming and screaming, her fury taking full control as she saw the glove begin to split and bone begin to give way under her blows.  His blood now decorated the bottom of her pan; it flew into the air, some of it flecking into her face.  She gave one last slam before tossing her frying pan aside and attacking the cause of her and Luigi’s distress with the pointy end of her Parasol, first driving it into all of Crazy Hand’s knuckles and then plunging it over and over into any place in sight, spurts of blood now landing on her dress and gloves and in her hair.  She kept going and going until her anger subsided and Crazy Hand was nothing more than a torn-up mess on the bed, a sanguine puddle staining the once snowy-white sheets.  The Parasol slipped out of her hands and onto the floor as she knelt there, both crying and giggling demonically, her body shuddering and heaving, paying no mind to the sound of running footsteps approaching the room and the gasps of disbelief and horror issuing from the doorway.  All she knew was that she’d defended Luigi the way he and Mario would defend her and Daisy, and like them, she’d face the consequences gladly.

              “What in Star’s name?!” exclaimed Mario as Master Hand and Master Core floated there, looking upon the scene in horror.

              “Crazy!” shouted MC, casting his healing power over his son as Mario swooped the still-sobbing Peach into his arms.

              “Princess,” gasped Mario as she clung to him.

              “Do you know what he said to me?!” she cried into his chest.  “Do you know what that [ _bleep_ ] said to me?!  He’s gonna throw Luigi out!”

              “What?!” Master, MC and Mario interjected as one.

              “I’m glad I did it,” Peach hiccupped.  “I’m glad I did it, and I swear, I’ll do it again!”

              Mario glared at Master Hand and Master Core.  “You didn’t hear that,” he said.  “You’re gonna be okay, Peach.  I swear it.”  He carried her, bridal style, to his room.

              MC finished healing Crazy, who sat up, moaning.  “I’m not even gonna try to kidnap her,” he said, trying to inject levity into the situation.

              “Bro—what did you say to her?” asked Master.

              “I—I told her that I filed some paperwork barring Luigi from the next tournament, should there be one,” said Crazy.

              “Without my knowledge and approval?” MC questioned sternly.

              Crazy shook his head.  “I didn’t actually do that, I swear!  It was just words!  I just wanted to—to…”

              “…get a rise out of her,” said MC, “and you succeeded.  I’m going to make sure that you didn’t actually file that paperwork.”

              “And as for Peach, I shall speak with her before her matches tomorrow and discipline her accordingly,” said Master Hand.  “I really hope you learned something from this, Bro.  I hope that next time, you’ll think before you say something.  Now get some rest.  We have another long day tomorrow.”

              Master and MC floated out of the room, and Crazy curled back up with his teddy bear and went back to sleep.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

_Present_

              Princess Peach sat docilely in Master Hand’s office, hands folded daintily in her lap.  The giant glove sat before her, studying her.  She was calm, composed, wearing a green dress, her hair nicely done up and fresh makeup on her face.  Far from the hot mess he walked in on last night.

              “Do you know why I summoned you, Princess?” asked Master Hand.

              “Yes.”  Peach’s voice was soft, her eyes warm.  “I barged into Crazy Hand’s bedroom and freaked out on him.  And I’m very sorry I did that.  It was unladylike and unfitting for a Princess.”  She took a deep breath.  “Is he okay?”

              “Don’t worry.  He’s fine.  Master Core used his healing powers.”

              Peach breathed a prayer of thanks.

              “You also said that you’re glad you did it, and that you’d do it again,” said Master.  “Do you remember that?”

              “Yes—but I didn’t mean it.  Not a single syllable of it.”  Peach was humble and contrite.  “I was just—so furious.  When I saw him there, sleeping peacefully after what he said, while Luigi was wide awake and fighting to count sheep, I just…” She buried her face into her hands.  “…couldn’t take it.”  She sniffled a few times.

              “Did _he_ put you up to this?” asked Master.

              Peach snapped her head up.  “No,” she said, a little fiercely.  “My actions were my own and to my own purpose.  I’m surprised that you’d even suggest that.”

              “Crazy’s tirade yesterday morning was unacceptable,” conceded Master Hand, “but so was your reaction to it.  I know that Luigi has done a lot for your people and that you want to reciprocate that, but—surely there was another way.”

              “I know.  I overreacted and lost my temper…”  Her eyes flashed, and her tone turned defensive.  “Well, so did he!  An eye for an eye, don’t you think?!”

              “Peach,” said Master Hand.  “This isn’t you.  You’re the kind and gentle ruler of the Mushroom Kingdom.  What would the Toads think if they found out about this?”

              “I’m sure they’ll understand,” murmured Peach.  “So.  What happens to me now?”

              The same six words Luigi uttered after confessing to being bullied and exacting brutal revenge against his tormentors.  She must’ve known and was using it to defy him.

              “I was just getting to that part, Princess,” said Master.  “Believe it or not, I understand why you did it, just as I understand why Luigi took matters into his own hands regarding _his_ situation.  But a line has been crossed, and such behavior will not be tolerated in this tournament.”

              “I’m finished in Smash, aren’t I?”

              “You didn’t let me finish.  Effective tomorrow, you are suspended for nine weeks.  I’ll let you fight your matches today to get the remainder of that frustration out of your system, but after that, you shall abide by the suspension guidelines.  During those nine weeks, I suggest you think about your actions last night, and I have penciled you in for daily appointments with both Dr. Mario and Dr. Toadley, who will decide whether or not you need a referral to a psychiatrist.  And lastly, I have notified Toadsworth, and you are ordered to appear before the Mushroom Royal Council in five days to discuss last night’s incident.”

              “It will never happen again,” Peach affirmed solemnly.  “You have my word.”

              “If there hadn’t been mitigating circumstances, then you would’ve faced an indefinite suspension or expulsion.  Do you understand?”

              “Yes.”

              Master nodded.  “You are dismissed.”

              Peach rose, bade Master Hand good day and stepped briskly out of the office, her face defiant and fierce as the reality of her punishment crashed down upon her.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              The rest of the day passed without incident.  Both Luigi and Peach were extremely aggressive in their matches, but other than that, things went normally.  Afterwards, the Bros, Kirby, Zelda, Palutena, Ness, Lucas and Toon helped Peach bake three cakes.  The first cake, a chocolate fudge cake, was delivered to Crazy Hand, along with an eloquent letter of apology for what happened last night.  The second cake, a chocolate raspberry cake, was delivered to Master Hand to show acceptance of her punishment.  The third cake, a chocolate cream cake, was delivered to Master Core.  And finally, Peach baked a cake for the Bros, to help them feel better.

              At dinner, not a word was spoken about Crazy’s rant to Luigi or last night’s dust-up.  Roy and Meta Knight appeared to have talked things over and were now seductively feeding each other bites of food.  Kirby was still distant toward him, though, and Luigi was still going to find out why.  Falco had managed to rein in his guilt, at least for a while, musing that while Crazy Hand deserved a thrashing, Peach _did_ overreact.  He also made a mental note to send her flowers, because he, along with most of the roster, would’ve done it himself without complaint!

              Dinner was soon finished.  The Smashers retreated to their rooms to get ready for bed.  Crazy stopped by to visit Peach, thanking her for the cake and forgiving her for attacking him.  Master also thanked Peach, but said that he wasn’t going to change his mind about her.  MC sent similar regards.  Peach smiled and kept the conversations short.  She’d just changed into her nightgown when Mario swung by for a visit.

              They didn’t have to say anything.  Peach threw her arms around Mario’s neck, and soon they were both inside, pulling off each other’s clothes, locking the door and drawing the curtains over the windows.  And then they were on the bed, Mario eating his Peach out as if his life depended on it and sending her into such a violent ecstasy that she actually grew dizzy.  Once she calmed a little, he worked both tongue and fingers inside of her some more and then replaced it with his Mushroom, and then they were one and the same.  He took her in several areas of the room and in several different positions; she screamed her throat raw from the pleasure he gave.  They ended the steamy get-together with a tender kiss, and they cuddled and fell asleep together.

              Meanwhile, Kirby dutifully puffed his way to Luigi’s room after finishing his toilette and knocked on the door.  Luigi opened it, still in his clothes, and greeted Kirby with a smile.  “Are you wearing my hat?” he asked.

              “Poyo!” chirped Kirby, his appendages adjusting the familiar green ball-cap.  Luigi stepped aside so that the fluffball could enter.

              Luigi then closed and locked the door and situated himself across from Kirby, his face perfectly serious.  “Kirby,” he began, “you know that I am your friend, and that I’d never hurt you, much less let you come to any harm.”

              “Poyo.”

              “And if there’s anything bothering you, then you know you can always come to me, right?”

              “Poyo, poyo!” Kirby said happily.  “Poyo, poyo, poyo, poyoyo popoyo poyo, poyo, poyo!”  He’d begun to bounce up and down as he remembered the various ways Luigi had supported him.

              “Of course, Kirby—I was there, too,” said Luigi.

              Kirby dropped his eyes.  “Poyo, popoyo poyo,” he sighed.

              “When I found you like that, I was really scared—scared that I’d lose you,” Luigi said softly, “but I didn’t call you here to discuss the past.”

              “Poyo, poyo?” asked Kirby.

              “I think you know what this is about, Kirby.  It’s about you and Roy.”

              Kirby’s jaw tightened at the mention of the Red Lion.

              “And it’s about that, too.  I noticed during the latter part of Melee and since his return, you haven’t spoken to him, interacted with him or anything.  And when you _do_ interact, you’re terse and curt with him.  You shoot him angry looks, and when he’s brought up in conversation, you get upset, kind of like what you’re doing now.  Furthermore, you give no quarter when matched up against him.”  Luigi reached over and took Kirby’s left appendage.  “I want you to be honest with me, Kirby.  What happened between you and Roy?”

              Tears began welling in Kirby’s eyes.  “Poy—poyoyo poyo, poyo,” he began.  And with that, he began to tell his friend the story of that fateful day in 2001.  Him finding our boy Roy in a bad mood and wishing to cheer him up.  Roy suddenly snapping, calling him “low-tier trash”, saying that he sucked, among other things and calling him a filthy casual as he chased him out of the room!

              And as Kirby talked, pieces began falling into place for Luigi.  How Kirby was in tears and reclusive for the rest of the day.  How he put up walls and shut down on Roy.  How he went all out on him during their succeeding battles.  How that username rang alarm bells while he was investigating that nonsense against the pink Star Warrior.  Dear God—had it really been only one time?  Or did it escalate?  Luigi told himself to do some more digging before confronting our boy Roy with this.

              But there were more pressing matters at hand.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

              “Poyo,” Kirby explained softly.

              “You didn’t think I’d believe you?  Kirby—whether or not I believe you doesn’t matter in situations like that.  Even though I was close with Roy—I wouldn’t have condoned his behavior.  I would’ve confronted him and verified it.  I would’ve helped you through it.  Why keep this to yourself all this time?”

              Kirby was crying in earnest.  “Poy-y-y—yo,” he spluttered.

              “Shh.  Come here, Kirby.  Come here.”  Luigi opened his arms, and Kirby puffed into them.  “Being last was nothing to be ashamed over.  You were far from trashy, but you kinda sucked—sucked in hapless opponents, that is.  Plus, your Kirbycide technique netted you plenty of wins.  Listen to me, a friendship shouldn’t be based on a win-loss record or a piece of paper.  If people were friendly with you in 1999 just because you were ranked second-highest only to dump you two years later because you were last, then they weren’t your friends at all.”

              Kirby’s sobs subsided, his confession relieving the burden resting upon his rotund form.  “Poyo?” he asked shakily.

              “I’m not upset.  I just wish you unburdened yourself sooner.  But don’t worry.  I’ll look into this, all right?”

              Kirby grinned, his tears gone.  “Poyo!”  He snuggled deeper into Luigi’s chest, and the man in green kicked off his shoes, flopped onto his bed and fell asleep with the puffball—just like he used to.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Halfway through the night, a sudden summer storm blew in.  The monsoon from the desert regions brought this thunderstorm to the Smash Realm.  The dark sky was rent apart by malevolent forks of icy blue lightning and the violent crash of thunder.  Rain poured down in thick sheets, as forcefully as angry tears.  Clearly, Mother Nature was upset about something—or the mood of a certain Smasher was being reflected off of her.

              Falco Lombardi had slept soundly until the storm arrived.  The first peals of thunder had awoken him, and try as he might, he couldn’t drop off again.  All he could do was wait till the system rolled away.  So, he lay there, staring absently at the photos and pictures adorning his wall, his old Melee and Brawl trophies lining his shelves and other memorabilia, occasionally backlit by the intense flashes of lightning.  Raindrops drummed upon the roof of the mansion and furiously hurled themselves against the windows.  Was that hail?  Would there be a tornado?  Two tornadoes were enough to deal with here—one red and one green.  He rolled over onto his other side, staring out the window, watching this spectacular show of light and sound. 

              And with each near-blinding flash, pictures of the past returned to him.  Standing before a group of men, running through a slideshow presentation and talking angrily about something.  In Master Hand’s office, animatedly discussing a certain green-capped fighter.  Scrawling something onto a piece of white paper and slipping it into what Master called “the suggestion box” for Daddy Sakurai when the update patches were still going on.  Voices faintly echoed to him—his own voice, Master’s voice, the voices of salty For Glory scrubs—even Daddy Sakurai’s voice and Luigi’s voice.  Outside his window, the lightning continued to dance across the sky, between clouds and on the ground; thunder continued to shake the mansion like a wrathful giant.  The pictures and the voices continued to shift and fit together like a jigsaw puzzle until—

              Until—

              They formed one single memory!

              Falco began to sweat all over his bedsheets as he recalled losing one too many times to the Eternal Understudy and his insane down throw combos or watching people get owned and bodied by said combos.  There was no escape—only hard, hard reads.  And when he saw the frustrations of others boiling over on Miiverse, he jumped right in.  That was how he came into contact with the Bennigan Brothers, Manny, Shane and Vincent.  His conscience had screamed at him to stay away, given what the late, not-so-great Stuart had pulled, but he didn’t care—the rest of him was on a coffee break.  And so he allowed himself to be drawn into Project Nerf and the group of conspirators, even volunteering to attend one of the secret meetings as a guest speaker.

              He remembered the slideshow he compiled for that occasion—stills of every Luigi battle he could get his hands on, screenshot showing some “hapless” Smasher hopelessly trapped by an aggressive down throw combo.  Himself.  Fox.  Marth.  Roy.  Dark Pit.  Various Pokémon.  And to pack an emotional punch, he included Lucas, Toon, Villager, Ness and Kirby—Luigi’s friends, no less, who didn’t even care how many down throw combos they found themselves in!  And at the meeting, Falco had flicked through slide after slide, feeling his anger and saltiness grow as he talked about the “horrific brutality” of Luigi’s play style.

              “Every single day, I find myself the victim of this!” he remembered yelling.  “ _Every!  Single!  Day!_   And when I’m not, I’m sitting helplessly in the stands, watching a good friend of mine get totally wasted by this string bean plumber over and over AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN!  And look at his face!  Look at how he _enjoys_ wreaking his destruction!  I finish up with bruises and aches all over my body from his fat little behind forcefully slamming me against the stage, karate chopping me to kingdom come and God knows what else!  I can barely fly because my wings are so messed up!  I get black eyes, broken noses and bloody beaks!  And I appreciate allowing me to speak to you tonight to tell you that I am really [ _bleep_ ]-ed off and that I’m getting sick and [ _bleep_ ]-ing tired of putting up with his [ _bleep_ ] all the livelong [ _bleep_ ]-ing day!”

              He yelled some other stuff too, but he clearly recalled someone asking, “What are you suggesting, Mr. Lombardi?”

              Falco had smirked.  “You guys wanna do something about this, right?  Then I’m your man.”

              “Sir, we already have an operation in motion.”

              “Yeah?  I know.  That’s what I’m sayin’.  You’re on the outside—I’m on the inside.  Surely, I can sway the great Master Hand to our cause by saying a few words to him.  Perhaps—if I made a few casual suggestions regarding the properties of Luigi’s down throw, in effect, getting rid of that competitive edge…”

              He’d paused, still smirking.  “Maybe—you could put me in touch with Daddy Sakurai himself, where we could work something out.”

              “Of course,” said the sure, baritone voice of Vincent Bennigan.  “We’ll be happy to set up a meeting with our lord and savior.  But—I’m sure you’re expecting something from our end.”

              “Uh-huh.  A hefty sum for services rendered.  And a guarantee of my full protection.  Do we have a deal?”

              “As long as you get the job done and things work out the way we want,” Vince said slyly.  “What do you think, boys?  Should we take Mr. Lombardi up on his offer?”

              “Yeah.  Yeah, sure,” said Shane Bennigan, the baby of the bunch.

              “Let’s do it,” said Manny Bennigan, the middle brother.

              Vincent stepped forward and extended his hand to Falco.  “Welcome to the club, birdie,” he said warmly.

              Falco met the proffered hand with his wing, thus sealing his bargain with the Devil.

              The next round of images flashed as swiftly as the lightning through the avian’s mindscape.  His one-on-one meetings with Daddy Sakurai.  Exchanging manila folders with him, marked “CONFIDENTIAL”.  Conversing with Master Hand behind closed doors, putting the idea in his head and the taste in his mouth.  Watching from afar as Daddy Sakurai himself personally delivered the copies of patch notes to Master Hand, which were then distributed to the fighters.  His beak curving upwards in satisfaction as he saw the condemning red bullet point under Luigi’s name, describing how life in these tournaments would be very different and very hard from now on.  Sitting in Luigi’s room, playing dumb and providing comfort and a listening ear.  He’d made good on his promise—and he hoped that the Bennigan Brothers would make good on theirs.

              Receiving the cash-filled suitcases from his co-conspirators.  Watching as pictures upon pictures of Luigi were burned after Vince gave the announcement.  Watching the creators of Project Nerf celebrate in the streets.  Relishing in the fact that by removing his reliable combos and set-ups, they’d succeeded in bringing the mustachioed man in green to his knees.

              Or so they thought…

              The storm was beginning to die down, yet Falco was restless.  He needed a midnight snack to soothe himself!  The avian slid out of bed, grabbed a flashlight and ventured over to the kitchen.  There, in one of the cupboards, was a bagged loaf of bread with the warning: FALCO’S BREAD—HANDS OFF written in ink on a yellow Post-It note.  He grabbed the bread, helped himself to a few slices, and after grabbing some meat and cheese, made himself a couple of sandwiches.  He started in on one of them as he made his way back upstairs, flashlight tucked under one arm.

              Back inside his room, Falco sat on the edge of his bed and continued to eat.  He loved his bread so much—and it made for some fine sandwiches.  Nobody dared put their hands on Falco’s bread—not even his closest friends.  He closed his eyes and lost himself in the rhythmic chewing, the taste of the bread and meat and cheese.  But just as he was about to reach complete nirvana—his eyes snapped back open.  Something had come to him!

              Stuffing the last of the first sandwich into his mouth, Falco set his plate down and crossed the room to a black cabinet, which he opened to reveal a small safe.  Briskly, he punched in the four-digit unlock code, opened the safe and took out a small beige box.  He stood there with the box in his arms, looking at it.  Finally, he took a deep breath and whipped the lid off the box.

              It was empty!

              At the bottom of the box rested a note.  _Hickory dickory dock, the bird must beat the clock_ , read the neatly-written message.  Below it was a cartoonish drawing of a bird attempting to fly away from a pair of outstretched arms—Luigi’s arms!

              With a gasp, Falco dropped the box and stumbled back onto his bed, a wing over his mouth.  God in Heaven!  His secret was out!  His skeletons had come tumbling out of his closet—and it was only a matter of time before they wound up in Luigi’s lap!

              One final starburst of lightning.

              One final crescendo of thunder.

              And Falco was left in silence save for the wild beat of his heart.

      


	56. Interlude: A Tale of Two Conspiracy Theories

**_Project Nerf_ **

**Project Nerf, known to the pro-Luigi conspiracy theorists as UpdateGate and to the ardent Luigi fans as the Triple One Massacre, was a plot engineered by the secret network of Luigi haters, trolls and bullies with assistance from salty For Glory scrubs.  The scheme was engendered by the increase in Luigi’s favorable match-ups brought on by his combo-licious down throw.  These whiny, scrubby FG players were tired of the cowardly plumber bodying them, since their mains were so much better and stronger than him.  So, the salty contingent allied themselves with Luigi’s bullies, both old and new, with a little help from the inside.**

**The rumblings and complaints about Luigi’s down throw had begun as early as the start of the fourth tournament, in November 2014.  But these early rumblings had been drowned out by amazed gasps, “oohs”, “aahs” and “wows” from the general Smash community.  Prior to the tournament’s start, on October 17, 2014, Luigi had been selected in lieu of Mario to represent the Super Mario universe at a combo exhibition, where Smash players past and present bore witness to the man in green’s new down throw and its combos for the first time.  By the time Luigi fought his first official match of the tournament, on November 21, 2014, the magic hadn’t died—contrarily, it had grown stronger.  And stronger.  As 2014 gave way to 2015, Luigi’s combo potential, coupled with the aftershocks of his Mario Kart Death Stare, led to a surge of ranks in his fan base.  The Smash universe was hooked, and it couldn’t get enough.**

**By June 2015, Luigi had firmly anchored himself as a Smash 4 powerhouse.  Due to the continuous update patches, there was no tier list, but if there was, Luigi, to paraphrase Ronald Reagan, would be better off than he was sixteen years ago.  He still struggled with approach issues and subpar traction, but he was positively amazing in neutral as well as in the air.  His hard work had garnered him a win-loss record which surpassed Mario, the royal “Thumbs Up” from both Master Hand and Crazy Hand and the eventual, elusive “Smasher of the Month” honor in July 2015.  Spectators were gaga over his fighting style, his stage presence and his laid-back attitude.  They loved it when he comically posed after winning and even more when he accepted his victories with humility.  He talked trash a little, but it was subtle and delivered as a riposte to more savage trash talking.  In the hands of Ally and LoF False, to name a few, the man in green was a wrecking ball.  This open outpouring of support and adoration was the salve for the mental wounds Luigi had sustained in prior years.**

**The backlash against Luigi’s down throw exploded in mid-August 2015, beginning with the rising frustrations of certain Smashers over being trapped and bodied in combo after combo.  Most notably was Falco Lombardi, who minced no words about how fed up he was to the man in green after an awards ceremony.  You could hear the rants to Master Hand from the other side of the corridor, and Luigi liked to linger outside the office door and listen to the rants about how broken he was and how much they hated him, a small smile on his lips.  He paid them no mind, having sworn off grudges since the Stuart Bennigan affair—a lot of good _that_ did, but I digress.  When these salty Smashers weren’t venting to Master Hand, then they were venting to each other and eventually all over Miiverse, where they came into contact with equally salty FG scrubs who chose to rage quit and troll rather than practice with their mains.  The FG scrubs, in turn, attracted the attention of the hardcore Luigi haters, forever searching for ways to get at the man in green.**

**Gradually, the idea began to form.  What better way to torment their frequent target and take him down a peg than to “do something” about those rad combos of his?  It quickly became a topic for discussion in private Miiverse chat forums and the anti-Luigi website as well as surreptitious meetings in houses.  And it was during once such meeting that the idea turned into a live project—Project Nerf.**

**Project Nerf officially began on August 29, 2015.  Starting that day, the conspirators began watching and recording all of Luigi’s matches to use as ammunition.  They invited frequent recipients of the down throw combos to come and speak about it.  Marth, Mewtwo, Pittoo, Falco, our boy Roy and some Mii Fighters were among those who accepted that invitation and allowed themselves to be drawn deeper and deeper into the scheme.  Night after night, they singled out Luigi in fire and brimstone presentations.  Of those presentations, Falco’s were particularly effective, due to the inclusion of slideshows.  The influence of these Smashers extended when they joined in the discussion forums on that website and established communications with the conspirators via Miiverse.  Some, like Falco, offered to put them in touch with Master Hand, and eventually, Daddy Sakurai.**

**Under the brilliant guidance of the Bennigan Brothers, Vincent, Manny and Shane, Project Nerf progressed with each passing day.  It was them who made the executive decision to designated Falco Lombardi as their primary inside man, since he was among the first to initiate contact with them.  For his trouble, they paid him 3 grand in advance, plus a whopping sum of $32 million when the job was done.  In turn, Falco appointed several secondary inside them—among them our boy Roy.  Yes, _that_ Roy, who’d harassed Kirby during the Melee years and eventually broke up with Marth following his unkind words against Daisy.  Talk about hypocrisy!**

**And what’s more, Roy knew of Marth’s involvement in Project Nerf and with the anti-Luigi website, and he even created an account and joined in!  His reaction to Marth’s scoffing was nothing more than the pot calling the kettle black!**

**But we’re getting off topic here.**

**Throughout September 2015, the conspirators were hard at work, the inside men lobbying Master Hand and the Bennigan Brothers leading the others to lobby Daddy Sakurai.  Their gaming lord and savior was an interesting ally in the plot, and many conspiracy theorists argue that he was actually a part of it.  You see, Daddy Sakurai had enough of Luigi bossing him around and telling him who and who not to put in Smash, so when these schemers came calling, he was ready to get his troll on.  As promised, the Bennigan Brothers set up meetings between Daddy Sakurai and Falco, where the avian showed the biggest troll in history the clips and stills from Luigi’s matches, some of which he purloined from the stock room and replaced with copies.  Marth and Roy led the other disgruntled Smashers in submitting signed petitions and written appeals to Daddy Sakurai to save them all.  With their silver tongues, these Smashers actually managed to convince Master Hand that Luigi was OP and in dire need of tweaking.  So, on September 21, 2015, the Hand of Creation himself reached out to our Smash lord and savior Daddy Sakurai to discuss work on a new update patch—patch 1.1.1.**

**So, Master Hand _knew_ that there were calls for Luigi to be nerfed.  And for some reason, he withheld that info from the mustachioed man in green.  As he continued dazzling the spectators at his matches while remaining humble about it, he had no idea of the forces working against him—that some recipients of his combos were secretly counting the days until they were gone for good.**

**But if the new patch targeted only Luigi, Daddy Sakurai reasoned, then he and his team would be accused of being prejudicial.  Minor changes had to be applied to other Smashers, as well.  Marth actually gave permission for them to alter his Tipper.  The other Smashers involved in the plot also agreed to be slightly altered, knowing that the look on Luigi’s face when he saw those patch notes would be worth it.**

**On the evening of September 29, 2015, Daddy Sakurai traveled to the Smash Mansion and personally delivered the patch notes to Master Hand, in a plain white folder marked “CONFIDENTIAL”.  The Hand of Creation, aided by the Hand of Destruction and Master Core, reviewed the notes to ensure that everything was in proper place before the new patch went into effect.  He gave the green light after only three hours.**

**Three hours.**

**Without even considering how Luigi would feel after his nerf or making a move to soften the blow, Master Hand said “all systems go” to patch 1.1.1.**

**The fate of Luigi’s down throw was sealed.  Now that its knockback scaling was drastically decreased, many of his guaranteed combos, set-ups and guaranteed-KO combos had been wiped out, potentially crippling the man in green’s statistics.  And Master Hand knew about it when it was still in the ideas stage.**

**September 30, 2015.  Luigi’s darkest day.  Patch 1.1.1 was released at the stroke of midnight.  At 6:06 a.m., Miis delivered copies of the patch notes to each Smasher.  Luigi got his copy at 6:11 a.m. and rapidly skimmed through the pamphlet till he reached his name.  And at 6:12 a.m., his whole world blew apart when his blue eyes fell on that nerf.**

**Project Nerf was a success.**

**For the Luigi haters, FG scrubs and their Smashing allies, it was the beginning of a new age.  It was freedom from those down throw combos.  After Vince officially announced the release of the patch, the conspirators celebrated in the streets, drinking all sorts of spirits, trashing and burning Luigi pictures and merchandise and hanging him in effigy.  The Smashers who participated were generously rewarded for their assistance, Falco got his money—but what they _didn’t_ count on was Luigi refusing to let this nerf drag him down, putting some fire under his feet and stringing together some new down throw combos from scratch—even trying them out on Kuro when he went to rub it in his face!**

**Ah, well.  They’d really do a number on him with the other scheme they had in mind—**

**_Operation Ballot Box_ **

**Operation Ballot Box, termed in the pro-Luigi circles as FighterGate, had been in the works longer than Project Nerf.  Heck, it was even started before Project Nerf!  This was arguably the grandest scheme on the agenda of these bullies, as it targeted not only Luigi but also Daisy, the love of his life.  Denying her entry in Smash would hit that plumber where it really hurt, they reasoned.  Like with Project Nerf, these bullies and trolls received invaluable assistance from the inside.**

**The plot was engendered along with the inception of the Smash Fighter Ballots in early 2015.  They knew that Daisy would be the one Luigi would vote for and want to win the most, so why not torment him further by taking that shot of happiness from him?  Rather than petition Daddy Sakurai to withdraw Daisy’s name from the Ballot, they elected to give Luigi false hope that his Flower Princess would win while driving up the votes for the other candidates.  Preferably, troll candidates like Goku, Cory, some ogre and Banjo and Kazookie.  They could care less who’d win—as long as it wasn’t Daisy.**

**The masterminds behind Operation Ballot Box were none other than—the Bennigan Brothers!  Yes, all four of the Bennigan Brothers—Vincent, Manny, Stuart and Shane—were notorious bullies who’d set their sights on Luigi a long time ago.  But they weren’t content with just pushing him around or bruising and bloodying him up.  No—they wanted to destroy him, inside and out.  They wanted to make him suffer and make him wish he was never born.  But they just never thought of a way to do that—until the Smash Ballot.**

**In the spring of 2015, Stuart volunteered to infiltrate the Smash Mansion for the sole purpose of rattling their prey.  By masking his true self with a gentle, soft-spoken personality, Stuart easily wormed his way onto the roster—and into Luigi’s good graces.  It was shortly after Lucas and Mewtwo were invited back when he slowly began to unveil his true self, setting a plot into motion when he learned of Luigi’s nomination for Smasher of the Month and then playing the victim when Luigi _dared_ to challenge him.  He twisted the knife by harassing his friends and getting them into trouble right along with him.**

**We all know what happened after that.  Unfortunately, Stuart got the last laugh, since Master Hand still saw things his way and punished Luigi for disobeying him.**

**Vince, Manny and Shane, however, had little time to mourn.  They had to kick of Phase 2 of Operation Ballot Box.  To accomplish this, the conspirators arranged themselves into groups and based each group in several key cities in the US.  Los Angeles.  Las Vegas.  Salt Lake City.  Boston.  Philadelphia.  Miami.  Baltimore.  New York City.  Once situated, the bullies commenced to cast multiple votes for the troll candidates—candidates who weren’t even popular among the general public.  Some even inflated the vote count for Waluigi!  On Miiverse and on the anti-Luigi website, the conspirators discoursed on why Daisy shouldn’t win the Ballot, how all she did was play sports, that she would be naught but a Peach clone.  They also launched efforts to break her morale by harassing all of her social media accounts and making degrading and sexually charged comments about her.  For most of the year, the Princess of Sarasaland managed to ignore them.  But it would only get worse.**

**The Bennigan Brothers captured the interest of Smashers who wanted in well before Project Nerf.  Marth, who dissed Daisy to Luigi, was an early volunteer.  It’s speculated that our boy Roy was privy to Marth’s involvement shortly after he returned in May 2015—and that he secretly got involved toward the end.  Kuro, Mewtwo and Kyle—who was also harassing Chrom—also wanted in on Operation Ballot Box.  Mewtwo had genuine Ballot choices in Pichu and Mew, but taking a kick at Luigi would be an added bonus.  Kuro and Kyle cast votes for Waluigi just for the heck of it.  Waluigi himself got in on the action by voting for all of the troll characters.  Old tormentors, like Raymond Sinclair, had managed to cast their votes before they were—taken care of—so the secret of their involvement died with them.  But the rest, unfortunately, wouldn’t be so lucky.**

**Like Roy and Falco.  Project Nerf was still in its early stages when the Bennigan Brothers asked for their help with Operation Ballot Box as repayment for their services.  The duo quickly agreed, though they also had genuine interests (Chrom for Roy, Slippy and Peppy for Falco), and paid off their “debt”, so to speak, but good when they used those candidates to decreased Daisy’s chances of getting in.  More revenge for trapping him in those combos all of the time.**

**And once Daddy Sakurai heard the whispers of Operation Ballot Box, he really got his trollface on.  Luigi called, e-mailed and set up face to face meetings talking about how much it would mean to him if Daisy fought beside him in Smash.  She had a lot of friends who could use her tomboyishness, too.  His passionate lobbying was getting on Daddy Sakurai’s nerves, and so he jumped at the chance to spite the man in green by adding his own twist to Operation Ballot Box.  He contacted the Bennigan Brothers with a proposal—would it be okay if he sent them the vote counts of the Ballot so far, so that they’d know who to keep casting votes for?  The Bennigan Brothers said sure, but what did Daddy Sakurai want in return?  To which Daddy Sakurai replied: help with rigging the Smash Ballot.  And the Bennigan Brothers said: oh, yeah.**

**Thus came Phase 3 of Operation Ballot Box.  The Smash Ballot officially closed in October 2015.  Vince, Manny and Shane “assisted” Daddy Sakurai in counting the votes, and they took Falco, Roy and Marth with them.  With each vote Daddy Sakurai counted, the three Smashers threw in a couple of extras.  As the Smash public impatiently inquired about the results, Daddy Sakurai convinced Master Hand to invite Cloud as a way to briefly pacify them.  Cloud arrived in November 2015 and soon flipped for Reflet, but that’s missing the point.  The “counting” was finally finished in December 2015, and while deciding the “victor”, Daddy Sakurai and his team reasoned that hey, sex appeal was what gamers these days really wanted, so why not declare the skintight suit-wearing Bayonetta the winner and throw in Corrin and Corrine just because?  His conniving allies couldn’t have said it better themselves.  They made the Ballot results appear in Bayo’s favor and sent copies of it to Master Hand, Crazy Hand and Master Core, so that they knew in advance that Daisy wasn’t going to be a Smasher anytime soon.**

**On December 15, 2015, Luigi walked into the viewing theater with high hopes for the future of Smash—only to walk out with those hopes unjustly dashed by the final Smash-related Nintendo Direct presentation.  And it was all thanks to the Bennigan Brothers and their friends—Daddy Sakurai among them.**

**But fear not.  Soon, these conspirators will answer for what they’ve done to Luigi and Daisy.  And you want to know the best part?  No jury in the Nintendo universe or in the world will ever convict the man in green!**


	57. Seal the Deal, Seal Your Fate

              “Are you freaking kidding me right now?!  I did _not_ just catch you, dancing with _him_ , to _that_ song!”

              Our boy Roy’s face was nearly purple as he took in the scene before him.  Meta— _his_ Meta—and Luigi on the Halberd together.  Dancing.  And of all songs, they had to pick the one currently playing right now.  “Ridin’ into the Sunset”, from _Kirby Super Star_ —a slow song reminiscent of “House of the Rising Sun”.  The song playing when Roy first confessed his feelings to the masked knight and during their first date.  The song on their stereo when they made love for the first time.  And Meta was blasting it during—this.

              While Roy was bordering on hysteria, Meta was quietly stern.  “Am I not allowed a casual dance with a friend?” he asked.

              “What’s _he_ doing here, anyway?” snapped Roy.

              “Roy, I come here sometimes to clear my head,” said Luigi.  “You should know that.”

              “But who gave _you_ the right to dance with my boyfriend and pick that song?” challenged Roy.

              “Roy, we agreed, didn’t we?” Meta said calmly.  “No more conniptions over my friendship with Luigi.”

              “Oh, I’m having conniptions, all right!” barked Roy.  “You’ve designated yourself Luigi’s personal Dear Abby and leaving me twisting in the wind!”

              “Nobody’s leaving you twisting in the wind,” objected Luigi.  “You’re our boy, remember?”

              “Yeah,” Meta agreed.  “Besides, I give wisdom to everyone.  I believe that’s what you’ve admired about me.  So why single out Luigi—again?”

              “Because—because…” spluttered Roy.

              “That’s right—you have absolutely no reason,” said Meta, “so calm down before I blow off our date tomorrow.”

              On those words, the color drained from Roy’s face.  “What—did—you—just—say?”

              “You heard me,” said Meta, turning away from our boy Roy.  “This is getting on my nerves.”

              “You know what, Meta?  He’s not gonna listen—so why bother reasoning?” huffed Luigi.  “He had no problem with our friendship before—why is he so touchy now?”

              A vein throbbed in Roy’s temple.  “Why, you little…”

              “L, take it easy,” warned Meta.

              Luigi sighed.  “Meta, given the circumstances, I have been extremely tolerant and forgiving until now.  I thought Roy was just scared of getting his heart hurt again—but now I believe that this is directed against me rather than you.”

              “But why?” asked Meta.

              “I don’t know—but I’ve had it with his crap as much as you have!  I’m sorry I ever set you two up!”

              “Don’t be,” Meta said consolingly.  “You had no way of knowing that he’d turn out like this.”

              “Gods, Meta—don’t you see?  He’s trying to break us up!” howled Roy.

              “No.  _You’re_ breaking us up,” Meta said hotly.  “You were nice and sweet at first.  Then, I try to help Luigi through a rough time in his life, and you become an insensitive, jealous fool.”

              “What makes you think he needs your help?” hissed Roy.

              “Roy—I’m shocked at you,” gasped Meta.  “First, the woman he loves is snubbed.  Then, he finds out that she’s been cyberbullied for God-knows-how long.  Then, he discovers that some of these bullies have committed despicable acts against his fans.  Then, Crazy Hand throws him under the bus.  And now he’s uncovering a website hating on him and evidence that patch 1.1.1 was a conspiracy and that the Ballot was rigged.  And you have the temerity to say that he doesn’t need a friend by his side?”

              “ _He doesn’t deserve any friends!_ ” Roy exploded.  “ _He doesn’t deserve your wisdom!  He’s nothing but a sad, weak and pathetic second banana—and that’s all he’ll ever be!_ ”

              “Roy!” shouted Meta.

              “Okay, that’s enough!  That’s enough!” Luigi broke in.  “Look, I’m sorry you’re having problems, I really am, but don’t take them out on me!  You need to speak to Meta Knight.  Use our words.”

              “And what do you know about relationship woes.  I’m sure you and Daisy are just skipping through a flower field!” snarked Roy.

              “That’s not true!  We have disagreements sometimes—but we make up because we communicate with each other—because we love each other!”

              “So you’re saying that Meta and I don’t love each other?”

              “Meta loves you—but do you love Meta?  Do you?”

              “Well—yes…”

              “Then why don’t you accept the fact that he’s trying to help a friend?  Why do you fly into these jealous rages?”

              “Because it sickens me to see him around people like you,” seethed Roy.  “You’re a worthless peasant, Luigi!  You don’t deserve to be treated with kindness and respect—you deserve to be spat upon, kicked around like a dog and condemned to the shadows!  Being the second player is the only thing you’re good at doing!”

              Luigi’s heart almost stopped.  He couldn’t believe what he was hearing!

              “I didn’t _ask_ you to push Meta towards me.  Who do you think you are, a matchmaker or something?  You think you’re everything just because some shriveled old man gave you a clunky vacuum cleaner and you plucked your fat brother out of a portrait?  What kind of heroics is that?!”

              Luigi clenched his fists.  Speaking of E. Gadd and of Mario like that was a definite no-no!

              “Nintendo wasted money and a whole year on you!  What made you so special that they had to give you your own year?  Did you cry and whine to them about how you’re always in Mario’s shadow, so that they’d spend a year kissing the ground you walk on?  You want to know what the Year of Luigi was?  A pity party!  A great big pity party for a string bean scaredy-cat who doesn’t know how to stay in his place!  Marth was right about you!  They _all_ were right about you!  And if I had my way, then I’d have all of your games _pulled from the shelves_!  That goes for Kirby’s games, too!”

              Both Luigi and Meta were quivering with fury.

              “So, it’s true then,” Luigi managed to say.  “You said those things about Kirby in Melee—called him a filthy casual—made him cry…”

              But Roy wasn’t done yet.  “I wish I’d help make the tier list—so that you’d always be last!  You can’t do anything right!  Heck, you couldn’t even hold your ground against that jester guy before he brainwashed you!  You know what—I can’t even look at your face anymore.  Why don’t you go home and wallow in your self-pity?  Or better yet—go and kill yourself.  It’s not like anyone’s gonna miss you!”

              Meta’s voice was menacingly low.  “Get out,” he growled.

              Roy whirled toward him.  “Excuse me?”

              “I said get out!” roared Meta.  “Nobody talks to one of my comrades like that—boyfriend or otherwise!”

              “I believe I just did,” sassed Roy, “and I can talk to that lousy loser anyway I want, thank you very much.”

              “Well, I believe he just told you to leave,” snapped Luigi, green fire igniting in his left hand, “now get lost before I make you.”

              “Aw—did I hurt you little feelings?” Roy cooed sarcastically.  “Do you need a kiss on the cheek and a lollypop to make it all better?”

              “That’s it!” Meta shouted.  “You and I—we’re done!  Over!  Finished!  I want your stuff packed and ready to go by 6:00 tomorrow morning!  I will no longer tolerate this behavior!”

              “Are you serious?” gasped Roy.  “I’m gonna lose you to _him_?  He’s less than nothing!”

              “Just get out of here, okay?!  Just go!”

              Roy saw that Meta meant business.  Grumbling, he turned and stalked away.

              Meta turned to Luigi.  “I’m so, sorry, Luigi.  _Lo siento mucho_.”

              “It’s fine,” Luigi said softly, “at least you got the wakeup call you needed to get him out of your life for good.”

              “ _Sì_ ,” said Meta.  “I did.”

              “Are you gonna be okay?” asked Luigi.

              Meta nodded.  “There are other fish in the sea,” he said, “but Roy has some serious issues that he needs to work out.”

              “You got that right,” muttered Luigi.  “I gotta get ready for bed.  See you tomorrow, Meta.”

              “ _Buenos noches_ , Luigi.”

              Luigi turned and walked away as Meta watched, concerned.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              The man in green stormed down the corridor, tears in his eyes.  How could he?  How could Roy say those things to him?  Marth’s badmouthing was the reason he broke up with him in the first place, so wasn’t that hypocrisy on his part?  There was no question—Roy indeed said those horrible things to Kirby fifteen years ago.  And he was perfectly capable of saying worse things—online.

              And all because he was trying to help!  He was trying to break up Meta and Roy’s fight—and boom!  The Red Lion turned on him!  He had greater doubts that our boy Roy loved Kirby’s tutor at all.  Perhaps he was—the rebound knight.

              Upon reaching the Training Area, Luigi was mildly surprised to hear the perky sounds of J-Pop music coming from within the walls.  Ever since her suspension, Peach had started hogging the Training Room as well to get the rest of her raw feelings out.  Luigi knocked on the door, saying, “Hey, Princess!  Is there room for one more?”

              “Uh—sure,” replied Peach, sounding quite winded.

              Luigi opened the door and sidled in.  Peach stood before a Sandbag, wearing a pink sports bra and gym shorts, her blond hair in a bun, sweat all over her body.  Bright eyes, no smile.

              “Are you okay?” she asked.

              “No,” confessed Luigi.  “Are you?”

              “No.”  She jerked her head toward the stereo.  “Too loud?”

              “Nah, it’s fine.”  Luigi strolled toward the Princess and rolled up his sleeves.

              Peach cocked her head to the side.  Everything about Luigi’s disposition practically screamed 1V1 ME M8.  How impolite it would be not to accept that offer?

              And so they went at each other—Sandbags all but forgotten.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Early the next morning, before breakfast, Peach sneaked out of the Smash Mansion to meet with Evan and Mandy.

              “Morning, Princess,” said Mandy.  “We received your package.”

              “Is it secure?” asked Peach.

              Evan nodded.  “It’s safely ensconced in our room and thus available for use as leverage against our bird friend.”

              “I knew I could count on you,” cooed Peach.  “By the way, did you know that Meta broke up with Roy last night?”

              “Why, no,” said Evan.  “What happened?”

              “Roy and Meta were arguing.  Luigi tried to play peacemaker.  Roy lost it.”

              Mandy and Evan exchanged horrified glances.  “You mean…?”

              “He said some horrible things,” said Peach.  “Leave it at that.”

              “We’ll deal with him later,” said Mandy.  “Right now, we need one final rundown of how to handle the package.”

              “Our bird friend has less than 48 hours to start singing,” said Peach.  “If he hasn’t confessed after those 48 hours have expired, then you will call Luigi into the room and tell him yourself.”

              “Ah.  An ultimatum,” nodded Mandy.  “Never thought you had it in you.”

              Peach shrugged.  “Suspension changes a person.”

              “But what about Mario?” asked Evan.  “Surely, Luigi will need his brother by his side as he processes the news.”

              “Fear not,” said Peach.  “Mario and I have been doing a little research lately.”

              “Then you should have him tell Luigi,” proposed Mandy.  “He’ll be frightfully upset if he discovers that Mario knew in advance.”

              “Don’t fret,” smiled Peach.  “I have everything taken care of.”

              “Thanks, Princess,” said Evan.

              “And don’t worry about Meta,” said Peach.  “He’ll survive.”

              With a final wink, Peach scurried off.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Daisy sat on her bed, clad in her nightgown, watching “Today” as her attendants prepared her breakfast.  Last night was the best sleep she had in months, and this new day was shaping to be a good one.  She reached up and slid a ponytail holder from her hair.  Then, an attendant came into her room and bowed.

              “Princess,” he said.  “You have a visitor—and he’s frightfully upset.”

              Daisy frowned.  “About what?”

              “A dispute at the Smash Mansion.”

              “Oh, God.”  Daisy leapt from her bed, threw on a robe and practically flew downstairs.

              Luigi sat on the couch, his face red and raw, eyes puffy, fresh tears on his cheeks.  He looked up and attempted to smile as Daisy rushed in.

              “Luigi!  What happened?” gasped Daisy.

              “Oh, Daisy, Daisy—just take me in your arms!” Luigi entreated in a heart wrenching tone.

              Daisy obliged, fighting her own tears, wrapping her arms around his body and pulling him close to her.  With his head on her breast, he gradually began to calm down.

              “My attendant told me that you got into an argument with someone,” Daisy said softly.

              Luigi nodded.

              “Tell me everything.  Please.  Was it Crazy Hand again?”

              “No.  It was Roy,” explained Luigi.  “He was seeing Meta Knight, and—apparently, he had jealousy issues.”

              “Meaning…?”

              “Since Brawl, a hobby of mine has been to go aboard Meta’s ship, the Halberd, to think.”

              “Yeah, I know about that.  You’re saying that Roy was wildly uncomfortable with that?”

              “Not at first.  I even set the two up together.  I saw Roy crushing on him and thought ‘why not?’”

              “What made him…?”

              “I don’t know.  Roy started getting increasingly clingy with Meta.  He started thinking that Meta had feelings for me, although he was just being a good friend.  And last night, Meta and I were on the Halberd, dancing—we were barely making contact with each other; it was just a friendly dance—and then Roy walked in and freaked!”

              “My,” breathed Daisy.

              “He and Meta started arguing.  I jumped in to try and cool things down.  Then, he turned on me…”

              “What did he say to you?”

              Luigi closed his eyes and took a breath.  “That I deserved to be walked all over—always last—that my games and Kirby’s games should be pulled from the shelves.  Called my year a pity party—said that I wasn’t a hero just because I sucked up some ghosts and freed Mario from a painting—and I’m paraphrasing that.”  He started sobbing.  “He brought up the Chaos Heart business, too.  And then he said that Marth was right about me—and told me to kill myself…”

              “Wow.  Roy and Marth were made for each other,” said Daisy.

              “So, Meta broke up with him,” finished Luigi.

              “Good call,” murmured Daisy.

              “Now, I’m convinced that Roy yelled at Kirby fifteen years ago—and that it wasn’t just that one time.”

              “Luigi,” Daisy said, heartbroken.  “I—if there’s anything I can do…”

              “I just need your love right now, Daisy,” sniffled Luigi.  “I need your love so much.”

              “I’m here, L—I’m here,” Daisy whispered in his ear.

              “Daisy…” Luigi leaned in and took her mouth in his for a deep kiss.  His arms slid tenderly round her body, feeling her soft robe as her hands gripped the back of his overalls.  Her tongue wriggled sensuously against his, the warmth of her lips and mouth soothing the emotional pain.

              They broke the kiss, still holding each other.  “Feel better?” asked Daisy.

              “A little,” Luigi said softly.  He undid her robe, and she shrugged it off, unveiling her low-cut, spaghetti strap nightgown, peach-colored and slightly transparent.  She gasped as he picked her up bridal-style and carried her upstairs, kissing her shoulders, chest and half-exposed bosom the whole way.

              They reached her bedroom, where Luigi closed and locked the door.  Gently, he lowered Daisy onto her bed and kissed her passionately, threading his fingers through her hair.  Her dexterous fingers undid his right overall strap, and then his left.  She sat up so he could easily slip off her nightgown, his eyes on hers the whole time.  Once he’d gotten her nightgown off her body, he pulled off his boots, slipped off his socks and shimmied out of his overalls.  She kissed his nose and slipped her hands under his shirt until he sat on his knees and got rid of it for her.  There was a big bulge beneath his briefs which Daisy was more than eager to free, and the briefs dropped to the floor along with the rest of the clothes.

               As Luigi began to give her his magic touch and use that magical tongue and mouth of his on her breasts and belly, Daisy began to moisten with need.  Softly, she moaned his name as her head lay limply on her pillow.  She knew how to make him feel better, just how he made her feel better after her rejection by the Smash Community last December.  Her moans became louder and then turned into those incoherent sounds as Luigi’s kisses grew wetter and targeted more sensitive areas.  Her hips.  Her waist.  The inside of her thighs.  He closed in on that special spot, feeling his shroom stiffen.  As he worked on her, she slid his fingers over his back, causing him to moan himself.

              And then he planted his lips _there_ and _there_ , setting off small tremors all over her body.  She gasped at him not to stop.  He responded by moving his kisses lower and lower on her mound and then lightly flicking his tongue along the edges of her walls.  She was dripping and glistening by now, her gasps turning into exclamations.  Slowly, he licked up her center—and then finally plunged his tongue in.

              He buried his tongue as far as it could go.  Daisy could hear the wet, sloppy, slurping sounds as his tongue repetitively probed in and out, his lips suckled and his entire mouth feasted on her.  She arched her body, screaming, as he continued this at a steady pace, channeling what had transpired the other night into animalistic drive.  By this point, Daisy had completely lost her senses; still, Luigi kept going, his head bobbing up and down with the motions of his mouth, her greedy flower pot completely soaked.  Then, he moved his tongue another way, in an entirely different rhythm.  She was practically flopping on the bed now, covered in sweat, her mouth continuing to spout those cries, cries which nearly drowned out the sloppier sounds as her plumber tended to her—plumbing.

              And even though the sensations in his groin grew unbearable, he didn’t stop.  He loved the feeling of her core against his tongue, wet jets pumping around it as her muscles clenched around it—all of the little nubs and nerves he could find and the wonderful sound he elicited from her!  He could smell her, and she smelled so delightful!  And as he curled his tongue _here_ and curved it _there_ , he could just imagine her, driven wild and encouraging him on this fine, fine morning.

              Daisy was teetering on the edge when Luigi suddenly stopped and withdrew his tongue, inch by inch.  He kissed back up her body and claimed her lips once more, his warm body covering hers.  Next thing she knew, she let out a great gasp as the size of him nearly had her falling apart right then and there.

              He waited until she settled down a little bit before his passionate thrusts started up.  His chest lightly skimmed her breasts, just touching the sensitive tops, bringing her more inexplicable pleasure than she could ever imagine.  She could feel him transferring his tenderness, love and devotion into her with each deep pump.  He continued to balloon inside of her as he plunged, faster, deeper, harder.  His warm body slid against hers, their shared sweat creating almost zero friction.  And all she could think about was him and how he was filling and stretching her, about his hips as they drove him deeper still, meeting her hips.  He made sparkles rocket through her system as he lowered himself slightly onto her yet still keeping their chests barely skimming together.  She hardly cared about her attendants putting the finishing touches on breakfast.  She hardly heard the clatter and clink of plates and silverware as they set the table.  The TV had fallen away.  She barely knew which way was up.  She just knew the fantastical things her plumber was doing, rocking her world as he locked himself into a brisk rhythm, testing himself to see how deep he could go.

              The pads of her fingers mashed into his sweaty back, waves of pleasure heaving her body as he alternated between stroking her hair and her back.  Then, he would lower his head and take one of her lovely domes into his mouth, timing his suckling with his thrusts.  He felt himself reaching the edge right along with her, but there was so much tension to be released that he dutifully prolonged it, listening as she gasped, sighed or yelled gibberish.  He leaned into her ear, whispering sensual words and then suckling on her earlobe and kissing down her neck.  Her perspiration pooled along her collarbone, and his lips teased the soft, sweaty skin.  How he managed to do all of that without breaking his rhythm was beyond him, especially when he was starting to breathe hard.  He sensed small tremors along his hips and felt Daisy start to shudder beneath him.  She was shouting his name now as he gasped out hers; they were both so close.  But he kept the impending explosion contained, feeling her slick walls pulse and caress him, closing his eyes and just focusing on the overpowering sensations and the sounds they both made, focusing on the memories of that awful night receding further and further into the fog, focusing on his love and his passion for Daisy and on how she loved him—focusing on how nothing could keep them apart.

              Suddenly, Daisy’s flower pot tightened around him, and she released a great, pleasured scream.  That was it for him.  His own body began shuddering as he burst open like a balloon, all of his love gushing forth.  He sighed deeply as he released, feeling the warmth jet from him and flow into her greedy flower pot.  Daisy’s hips jerked upward over and over as her flower juice dispensed, bathing his stomach.  Her shrieks subsided into sighs as his deep, thick, molten love flowed into her.  As Luigi continued to dispense himself into her, the world around them slowly began to come back into focus.  The TV.  The sounds and smells of preparing breakfast.  The hustling and bustling of her castle.  Their respective liquids gushed in gallons as aftershocks racked their bodies, their breathing erratic.  Luigi’s eyes popped open; in them, Daisy saw that he felt considerably better.  She kissed him and kissed him.

              “What are you gonna do now?” she asked as the two shared breakfast in bed.

              “You mean about Roy?” asked Luigi.  “I honestly don’t know.  I promised myself to look into all of this before taking action.”

              “But what he said to you…”

              “…is not enough,” explained Luigi.  “I’d still be jumping to conclusions.  What I need is concrete, physical evidence that Roy went after Kirby—and possibly after me.”

              “Well, look no further,” said Daisy, pulling out her laptop.  “My computer is at your disposal.  What I would suggest is to check all Smash-related social media sites first.  And maybe the anti-Luigi site is where you’ll strike gold.”

              Luigi beamed.  “Thanks, Daisy,” he said, setting aside his tray and booting up the laptop.

              First things first, Luigi accessed the Smash archives and pulled up the Melee-era blog.  In the “Search” box, he typed “Red_Lion_Boi”, the same username he came across while investigating hate comments against Kirby.  And the moment he hit “Enter”, all of his suspicions were confirmed.

              “Oh, God,” breathed Luigi as Roy’s Melee profile stared him in the face.

              “That was his account?” asked Daisy.

              “Yes,” replied Luigi, “and look!  There are some of the harassing comments I came across fifteen years ago!”

              The man in green began to scroll down Roy’s old profile page.  Some of the comments were talking about how much he loved Marth, but a considerable amount of them spewed hate over Kirby!  Who was he to dump on him?  He was going through the same problems, too!  He was low tier in those days, as well as a clone—so he should’ve understood how Kirby felt!  Dr. Mario was—and still continued to be—considered as a clone, yet he didn’t act like that!  And neither did Lucina!  Those two didn’t take out their anger on innocent people!  And Luigi—he started off as a clone as well as the worst fighter—but he didn’t snap at others!  Instead, he used the stigma to work harder and harder—to better himself.  Roy should’ve talked about his feelings with him!  He would’ve known what to do!  Instead—he targeted sweet little Kirby!

              “Poor little guy,” sighed Daisy.  “He didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

              “I know,” said Luigi.  “He had no reason to be nerfed like that.  In my opinion, he was perfectly fine.”

              Daisy peered over her plumber’s shoulder as he continued to peruse through Roy’s old blog.  With each post, he found it harder and harder to deny Kirby’s story.  Blog posts dated before that fateful day were warnings on the coming storm.  Roy seething about how “non-viable” Kirby was, that the puffball was “a piece of garbage”, that all he did was “gobble junk food” and that he should “go back to frolicking in La-La Land”.  There were those two horrible words—“filthy casual”.  There were tirades on Kirby’s limited vocabulary, his “Kirbycide” technique, his elongated “Hii” and on how he gave hardcore tournament diehards a bad name.  And then came the head-shaking comments, telling the puffball to—to—

              “Why don’t I ever see this coming?” asked Luigi.  “First Ike, then DDD, then Shulk, then Stuart, then Marth, Mewtwo and Pittoo, and now our boy Roy.  What am I gonna find out next—that Falco had something to do with my down throw nerf?”

              Daisy silently wrapped her arms around his middle as he further investigated Roy.  Turns out, he was also secretly bashing Luigi’s efforts to comfort Kirby.  Saying that he shouldn’t have “wasted his time with this no-good, trashy fluffball” and instead should’ve been “off celebrating his ascension to mid-tier”.  Now that wasn’t right!  Sure, Luigi was happy that he was buffed, but even the tallest mountain started off as a stone.  He couldn’t leave Kirby twisting in the wind and exposed to this nonsense!  He had to help!  And if he hadn’t—then Kirby would’ve been utterly destroyed!  Luigi was gut-punched by the Red Lion’s moxie.  He seemed to recall our boy Roy defending _him_ against _his_ haters, warning them to back off or face the Sword of Seals.  And then he went behind his back to harass Kirby!  Two faced, much?  What a hypocrite!

              And somehow, Roy found out about the— _thing_ —Luigi had caught Kirby doing on that horrid night.  His reaction?  “Hey, Kirbs—one piece of advice.  Next time, don’t listen to the green bean—and try going a little deeper, lol!”

              “Mamma mia!” exclaimed Luigi.  “I—I’ve seen enough.  Thanks, Daisy.”  He quickly powered off the laptop and put it away.  “Man, I can’t believe Roy would be that way—especially since he was facing similar hate over being an inferior clone.”

              “But you and Dr. Mario and Lucas and Lucy and Kuro—you all were clones,” murmured Daisy.

              “Instead of lashing out, we focused it inward,” said Luigi.  “Well, not exactly Kuro, being a dark angel and all.  In retrospect, he took it just as awfully as our boy Roy.  And Lucas—he was only a semi-clone, wasn’t he?  His moves weren’t just copy-and-pasted from Ness.”

              “Now we know for sure that Roy targeted Kirby,” said Daisy.  “Who’s to say that he wasn’t harassing you alongside Marth?  Perhaps we can look into that.”

              Luigi nodded.  “We can—we will—later.”

              He wet his lips, rolled onto her and dragged his mouth from her chin down to her belly.  Daisy inhaled sharply as he kissed across her waistline.

              “Oh.  Luigi,” she said.

              He paused and moved his body back over hers.  This time, he pillowed his chest on the tips of her domes, noticing that her skin was already flushed.  They shared a hot kiss as Luigi reached to the dresser and grabbed up a bottle of lotion.  He straightened, popped the cap up and squirted the pleasant-smelling cream directly onto her chest, between her breasts, onto her breasts, onto her torso and tummy.  Setting the bottle aside, he began to rub the lotion deep into her body, the motions of his hands slow and arousing.  He felt himself stirring back to life as he massaged his Princess.  She bit down on her lower lip and closed her eyes as the lotion increased the sensitivity of her skin.  With his index finger and thumb, he covered her pink buds with the stuff, kissing her neck and making her mewl.

              “Good call,” she managed to say as he started to apply the lotion on himself.  “Hey.  Let me…”

              “Ohhh….” He moaned softly as she rubbed the stuff onto his shoulders and upper body.  “Mmmmm….”  She was traveling lower and lower…

              …until he gently withdrew her hands and claimed her lips once more, their lotion-slick bodies rubbing and grinding together.  A creamy finger slid down the edge of her body and into her flower pod…

              “Oh—oh, Stars,” she murmured.

              Intense, indescribable pleasure shot up her nerves as he introduced another finger and then another, flexing, curling and pumping, fast and relentless.  She squirmed underneath him.  “Lu—Lu…” she breathed.

              He slipped his fingers out and French-kissed her down there, pulsing warmth suffusing his lips.  “Aaaaaahhhhhh,” he heard her say.  The louder she said that, and the more she quivered, the deeper he kissed, his tongue beginning to lick and lap away.

              Louder and louder she shrieked his name as her muscles clenched around his mouth.  That was when he _really_ dove in with his tongue, furiously licking until she was right at threshold.  After one last lick, he wriggled his tongue out of her, positioned himself and dove his mushroom in.

              “Holy [ _bleep_ ]-ing Stars!”

              His body undulated sensually as his shroom pounded into her.  His skin was cool with sweat, as was hers.  Faintly, he could hear his perspiration falling onto her skin; he saw the beads, droplets and pearls of it covering her, quivering and sliding; there was her belly button moving up and down as she met his thrusts.  And once again, she was shouting and screaming incoherently at his movements as his size filled her.  He squeezed his eyes shut as his love spouted out to meet hers, her yells subsiding into quiet gasps as he allowed some of it to stream onto her tummy and her bosom.  She lost it herself at his burrowing fingers, arching her back and shuddering like there was no tomorrow.  He continued to alternate between his fingers and his shroom, nudging both her and himself towards one ecstatic explosion after another until they were limp, sweaty and spent following a sopping wet grand finale.  Breakfast all but forgotten.

              “Thank you, Daisy,” panted Luigi.  “Thank you.  Thank you…”

              “No problem,” replied Daisy.

              They took their old sweet time licking each other clean of their beautiful mess.  Then, they got in the shower, where Luigi finished Daisy five more times with his mouth and tongue after they lathered each other up, plus an additional time as they rinsed the body wash away, the shower water cascading over them both and neatly drowning out the licking, slurping, sucking and heavy breathing as well as washing away the evidence.  Luigi took special care to prolong this last one, shifting his lips and rolling his tongue and roaming her body with his fingertips until bliss was assailing her on all fronts.

              Finally, they were both clean, and Luigi was ready to take on another day at the Smash Mansion.  He dressed, bade his Princess good day and hopped down a Warp Pipe as she waved after him.

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              Luigi stepped into his room and was astonished to find it squeaky clean, everything in its proper place.  There was a handful of mints on his pillow and a bowl of shrooms on his desk.  Underneath the bowl was a note.

              _Sorry I went off last night_ , it read.  _Enjoy the shrooms.  O.B.R._

              Calmly, Luigi tore the note into tiny strips.  The damage was done.  Based on the skeletons he’d dug from Roy’s closet, it was too late to apologize!

              He tossed the mints and the shrooms in the trash and headed out to see his schedule for the day.

              As he contemplated the day’s lineup, Mandy joined him, looking a bit pale.

              “Glad I caught you,” she said.  “You’ve really got to see what Evan and I dug up just now.”

              “If it’s about Roy targeting Kirby in Melee, then I already know about it,” said Luigi.

              “No—it’s worse,” said Mandy.  “C’mon.”

              Luigi followed Mandy to the Smash Lounge, where Evan was seated at a booth with his laptop.

              “I did some more digging into the anti-Luigi website,” explained Evan as his wife and his roommate took their seats.  “You won’t guess what I found out.”

              “What?” asked Luigi.

              “Our boy Roy was not only a secret administrator of the site, but also a financier.  He used deceit to get the people of Pharae to unknowingly contribute, as well.  As you can see, he was extremely active in forum threads, planning events, making merchandise, that type of thing.”

              “Wow,” said Luigi as he browsed through Roy’s page on the site.

              “Remember Project Nerf?” asked Mandy.  “Well, Roy was a part of it alongside Marth.  He was among several Smashers who ranted to the primary conspirators about it and served as a secondary inside man to advance the scheme.  He wrote scathing posts about it in discussion forums, he fed the idea to Master Hand via the ‘suggestion box’, he wrote to Daddy Sakurai—he and Marth flung ideas back and forth.”

              “He probably broke up with Marth to cover his own behind,” grumbled Evan.  “The two had a _petition_ drawn up to cripple your down throw!”

              “I suspected a lot of salt regarding my down throw combos, but this…” began Luigi.

              “That’s not all,” said Evan.  “Master Hand bought it hook, line and sinker.  He personally contacted Daddy Sakurai to ‘fix’ your down throw.”

              “He knew,” gasped Luigi, “just as he knew that Daisy didn’t win the Smash Ballot.”

              “We were just about to get to that,” said Mandy.  “Operation Ballot Box had been in progress longer than Project Nerf.  Marth was knee-deep in it from the get-go—and he turned our boy Roy onto it.  The leaders of Project Nerf suggested that Roy help out with Operation Ballot Box as “repayment” for his services in getting you patched.  Instead of seeing it as a liability, our boy Roy saw it as further revenge for you owning him day after day with your combos.  Oh, and some of your—prior—tormentors were involved in this operation, but you took care of them before they were outed.”

              “They must really hate me,” mused Luigi.

              “The ringleaders of both plots are—the Bennigan Brothers,” announced Evan.  “Vincent, Manny, Stuart and Shane launched Operation Ballot Box well before they dispatched Stu to the Smash Mansion to make you miserable.  After the fistfight between you two, the three remaining brothers continued the operation and dedicated it to Stu’s memory.  It was them who suggested that the bullies scatter themselves all over the States.  It was them who inflated the vote count for contenders like Cory and Goku.  It was them who pitched a more sinister plot to Daddy Sakurai—rig the Ballot.  And Sakurai—he gave his okay to both Operation Ballot Box and Project Nerf because he was sick and tired of you lobbying him about Daisy.”

              “When the Ballot closed, Vince, Manny, Shane and three of the Smashers helping them journeyed to Nintendo Headquarters to ‘help’ Sakurai count the votes by adding a little extra to the troll candidates,” Mandy joined in.  “Cloud was only a diversion to get the Smash community off of their backs.  And our boy Roy was among the helpers.  In the end, they all just looked at each other and said, ‘[ _Bleep_ ] it, let’s make it look like Bayonetta won; she’s a PYT, and isn’t that the only thing that matters these days?’  The rest is history.”

              “What can you tell me about the other Smashers?” asked Luigi.

              “Like we said, you already took your revenge against some of them before you could learn about your involvement,” said Evan, “but we’ve smoked out those who are still living and gave them an ultimatum—come clean, or we’ll come clean for them.  Except Roy—after what he said last night, he doesn’t deserve a chance to confess.  Unfortunately, these conspirators and the Bennigan Brothers are taking the coward’s way out, folding their networks and making a mass exodus to New York, where Daddy Sakurai will keep them safe.”

              “They can run, but they can’t hide,” said Luigi.  “Thanks again for the information download.”

              Evan nodded.  “It’s what friends do.”

              As Luigi exited the lounge, he started feeling hot all over.  Perhaps the first few matches would keep him under control…

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              “Darn!  Where is it?!” Falco hissed to himself as he frantically rummaged through the drawers and cabinets in his room.  All of the documents, photos and the like pointing to his involvement in Project Nerf were gone!  Vanished, and replaced with a mocking picture of him trying to flee from the friend he’d betrayed.  Whoever made off with the incriminating evidence was a good friend of Luigi’s, for now they were sending the avian cryptic messages about how he was running out of time, about how he was up for a scavenger hunt and that he had to recover the evidence before Luigi stumbled upon it.

              Falco collapsed onto his bed, willing himself to calm down.  Panicking wasn’t going to help his situation.  He knew the phone numbers of the Bennigan Brothers by heart, thank God.  He’d call them tonight; they’d know what to do.  They’d keep his secret safe.

              The phone rang.

              Falco answered it with a calm, “Hello?”

              “Good morning, Falco,” said a syrupy voice.  “I hope you’re not stressing too much over losing those valuables of yours.”

              “Who is this?” demanded Falco.

              “Perhaps you were so preoccupied about the skeletons in your closet that you forgot to engage your deadbolt on your way out,” the voice cooed.  “It was quite easy for me to slip in, crack your safe and help myself to what I needed.”

              “Oh, no,” groaned Falco.  “Peach.”

              Peach giggled.  “Let’s play a game, Falco,” she said.  “I’d like to call it ‘Truth or Hell’, and it goes something like this: there’s some very condemning info of you floating around someplace which clearly shows that you were among the conspirators of not only Project Nerf but also Operation Ballot Box.  Now, I’m not going to tell you where this evidence is and who currently possesses it, because that’ll spoil the fun!  The objective of the game is quite simple.  I’m going to give you exactly until the stroke of midnight tonight to spill your guts out to Luigi, your best friend, or at least he was, until you got all upset at him because you couldn’t escape his combos.  Whatever.  Any-who, you have less than fifteen hours to fess up.  If you do, then that will be the end of it.  You two manage to work something out and everything keeps spinning.  But if you haven’t made a full confession to Luigi by the time agreed upon, then I have arranged to have your little secret blown out of the water!  And please, don’t think about trying to flee, for I’ll have a close eye on you!”

              “Look, Princess—I don’t even know how to _begin_ breaking this to him!” balked Falco.  “He’s still smarting over it!”

              “Aww—what a pity,” sighed Peach, “and you two were cut out to be buddies, with both of you hailing from Brooklyn and all.  Oh, well.  Tick-tock, Mr. Lombardi.  Your fifteen hours have begun!”

              _Click_.

              Falco cursed and hurled the phone at the wall.  Tell Luigi—was Peach high or something?!  While he was salty over his old down throw, he still liked Luigi as a friend, and he didn’t want that friendship to end!

              There was only one thing left to do.  Falco withdrew his cell phone and dialed a number…

              “ _Hey, it’s Vincent B.  Leave a message._ ”

              “Vince?  It’s me, Falco.  I—I think Luigi’s about to find out about us!”

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              “Yeah, I feel you, bro,” Crazy Hand was saying to Roy as the duo drowned their sorrows in Master’s bar.  “Nowadays, Luigi’s acting like he has to be treated like royalty.”

              “First, he ruins my relationship with Marth, and now he busts things up between me and Meta,” griped Roy.  “Why did Master invite him here in the first [ _bleep_ ]-ing place?”

              “We had to, or else Mario would’ve thrown a fit,” eyerolled Crazy.  “How he puts up with that guy is—wow.”

              “I know.  Mario has the patience of a saint.”  Roy sipped his cocktail.  “Hey, I heard that you and L had words over what’s-his-name.”

              “Yeah.  He was mad that the jury overturned his conviction and, according to my brother, tried to appeal to us,” said Crazy, using air quotes.  “I was getting really sick of his tattletale behind, so I just—let him have it.  The green bean hasn’t spoken to me since, Dad grounded me, Peach beat me within an inch of my life…”

              “Don’t you just wish you had denied his application in ’99?”

              “Is that a trick question?  Man, he is Player Two!  What business does Player Two have in a serious fighting game?”

              “Well, Diddy’s Player Two,” shrugged Roy.

              “Diddy Kong accepts his place with a smile; he doesn’t throw a hissy fit when someone reminds him of what he is—and that’s more than I can say for _some_ people,” spat Crazy.  “If I had my way, then he would’ve never been born!  Bro was right about him that day—Smash is better off without him!”

              “You told Peach that you petitioned to have him excluded from future tournaments,” said Roy.  “Why didn’t you?”

              “I dunno.  I was just trying to be good.  I’m already grounded for a month.”

              “You know what I’d do?  I’d go behind Master’s back and give the Eternal Understudy the boot—send him back where he belongs!”

              Crazy smirked, if that was possible.  “I’ll think about it, Roy.  Okay?”

              “Okay.”

              Roy’s cell phone buzzed.  “Excuse me,” he said to Crazy.

              “Hello?”

              “Roy, it’s Falco.  You need to get out of here.  Tonight.”

              “Why?”

              “Peach found out!”

              “Found out?  About what?”

              “About the two of us setting in motion the events which led to patch 1.1.1!  About us helping Daddy Sakurai rig the Smash Ballot!  About our connection to Operation Ballot Box!”

              Roy blanched.  “Oh, Naga.  Did you call Vince?”

              “I got his answering machine and told him to call back!  Call Shane—he always has his phone handy!”

              “Shane?  What about Manny?”

              “Manny?  Forget it!  He’s always wining and dining rich women!  Shane is your best bet!”

              “Okay.  God help us both, Falco.”  And then he hung up.

              Crazy stared quizzically at our boy Roy.  “What was that about?”

              “I’ve got a Princess on my tail,” said Roy as he threw some Smash Coins onto the counter.  “Thanks for the drinks.”

              “What’s going on, Roy?”

              “Either Luigi knows—or he’s about to know!”

              And with that, Roy scurried off.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              “Shane, thank goodness!”

              “Roy, is that you?!” asked Shane, the baby Bennigan Brother.

              “Yes, and I’m in trouble, big time!”

              “Shh.  Easy there.  My brothers and I will take care of you.  Now, what’s the matter?”

              “I think—Luigi’s about to find out about me, Project Nerf and Operation Ballot Box!”

              “Yeah, we just got word that someone blew the whistle on us.  We were just about to call you.  We need you and Falco to clear out at sundown.  Take no more than what you can.  Move quickly and quietly.  We will have separate jets waiting for you both.  Falco can use his Arwing to fly to the airport, but we’ll have a car and driver waiting for you at 7:30p.m. tonight.”

              “Where will I be going?” asked Roy.

              “To New York.  That’s where everyone else is headed.  Our base there is well-fortified and under the protection of Daddy Sakurai himself.”

              “Have you talked to Falco yet?”

              “Vincent is returning his call as we speak.  Don’t worry.  The both of you are in safe hands.”

              “I cannot thank you enough,” said Roy.  “I’ll see you in the Big Apple.”

              Roy hung up and flopped onto the bed with a sigh of relief, unaware that Kirby was just outside his door and had overheard everything.

              The Star Warrior puffed to his own room and dialed a number on his phone.

              “Poyo,” was all he said.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              It was another stormy night in the Smash World.  This time, it was a hot, humid storm, the perfect setting for rising tempers.  Despite the booming thunder and arcing lightning, the Smashers were fast asleep—well, most of them.

              In his room, our boy Roy was checking to see if he had everything.  His room had been completely cleared out, and he was prepared for a long and possibly perilous trip.  Satisfied that everything was packed up, he took a folded piece of paper and laid it out on his desk.  It was a letter to Master Hand, explaining the situation.  Slinging the duffel bag onto his shoulder, Roy took a last look at his room and at the Smash Mansion before resolutely stepping outside and taking shelter at a bus stop, waiting for his getaway car.

              As the rain poured around him, the Red Lion waited—and waited—and waited—and waited—until he was about to doze off.  Finally, as he prepared to call Shane and asked about the holdup, he heard a car horn over the crash of thunder.

              Roy stood, grabbed his things and raced over to the car waiting for him beneath a streetlight.

              “Thank Naga!  I was starting to worry,” he said as he threw his luggage into the backseat and then hopped into the front seat.  “Take me to the Smash Airport—and step on it!”

              From the driver’s seat came a cheerful “Poyo!”

              Our boy Roy’s blood turned to ice in his veins.  Slowly, he swiveled around and found himself face-to-face with—

              …round little Kirby, the 8-inch tall puffball who the Red Lion had lashed out at fifteen years earlier.  Kirby was clad in a tiny chauffeur’s uniform, with a chauffeur’s hat snugly on his head.  His innocent, bean-shaped eyes peered at his “passenger”, a small smile on his lips.

              “K-Kirby?  What are you doing here?  Where’s the real driver?”

              Kirby beamed.  “Poyo!  Poyo, popoyo, poyo!”

              “Oh, dear Naga.  Don’t tell me you _ate_ him!”

              Kirby shrugged.  “Poyo poyoyo po poyo poy poyo.”

              “You’re so young, Kirby,” admonished Roy.  “Do you even have a driver’s license?”

              Wordlessly, Kirby produced such a driver’s license.  On the left, Kirby’s round body filled the frame as he waved “Hii!”  On the right were the necessary information and the expiration date.

              “Okay, Kirbs.  I trust you,” said Roy.  “Would you be so kind as to drive me to the airport, please?  I have a flight waiting for me.”

              Kirby nodded.  “Poyo!”

              He started the car, pulled away from the curb, and drove off into the stormy midsummer night.

              Fifteen minutes went by before our boy Roy realized that they were nowhere near the airport.  He started to sweat.

              “Uh—Kirby?” he asked.  “Are you sure you know where you’re going?”

              “Poyo,” Kirby said disarmingly.

              “This doesn’t look like the airport to me,” said Roy.

              Kirby said nothing.  They drove on in silence.

              Roy started as gnarled branches of dead trees came into view.  Even with the windows rolled up, he could hear the eerie hoot of owls and the screech of ravens.

              “Kirby, I’m starting to think that you’re lost,” he said.  “Furthermore, I think the airport’s the other way.  You probably missed a turn a while back.”

              Kirby didn’t answer.

              “Kirby?  This is getting very spooky!”

              As he spoke, the car bounced and jostled, indicating that they were no longer on a paved road.

              “Kirby, this isn’t funny!  Turn around now!  I want to go to the airport!”

              “Poyo, poyo, poyo,” replied Kirby, a menacing edge to his voice now.

              Roy’s heart pounded out of his chest, and he found himself wetting his pants.  “What sick prank is this?!” he roared.

              The car rolled to a stop.  In front of them stood a scary-looking mansion.  A familiar looking, scary mansion.

              “Poyo, poyo!” chirped Kirby.

              “Darn it, Kirby!  I’m gonna miss my flight!”

              Kirby reached out and grabbed the Red Lion, pulling him close.  “Poyo,” he hissed.

              “What do you mean, I’m not going anywhere?”

              Kirby rolled his eyes, opened the door and puffed out, dragging Roy with him.  He floated over to the trunk, unlocked it and thrust Roy forward so he could see the contents…

              The actual chauffeur and the pilot, their wrists and ankles tied and hoods over their heads.  Both men had been stripped to their boxers and brutally beaten all over their bodies.  Roy also saw nasty burn marks on their skin as they squirmed and released muffled cries through their hoods.  Smiling, Kirby removed the hood from the chauffeur, who wore an indignant look on his battered, nearly broken face.

              “You little [ _bleep_ ]!  I ought to have you and your friend arrested!” he barked.

              Kirby responded by brandishing his hammer and sending it flying into the man’s face.  Roy closed his eyes and looked away seconds before the moment of impact.  But he heard the sound of a face smashing to bits, followed by a gurgling scream.  The chauffeur crumpled to the ground, out of Roy’s line of vision, and then Kirby puffed himself over and brought the hammer down again and again.  Finally, he put the weapon away, opened his mouth, and sucked the man in, swallowing him whole.

              He was still alive.  Roy heard his weak cries amidst the storm and Kirby’s gurgling stomach.  Kirby smiled and licked his lips in pure satisfaction.

              Then, he unmasked the pilot, who choked out “God, help me” before doubling over and upchucking onto the ground beside the car.

              Nonchalantly, Kirby picked him up and plopped him face-first into the mess.  Then, he took his Final Cutter and began slicing away.  After a while, Kirby kicked the pilot onto his back and slashed up his stomach before Inhaling him the same way he Inhaled the chauffeur.

              _Gurgle, gurgle_.

              “Poyo?” he asked, turning toward Roy.

              “No!  Please!  No!” screamed Roy.

              He backed away a few steps—and then turned tail and fled for his life!

              Screaming blue murder, Roy scrambled through rainwater, mud and muck, his cape snagging and tearing against branches.  He had to get away from here!  He had to get to the airport and to safety.  Behind him, Kirby furiously flapped his arms as he puffed in pursuit.  “Poyoooo!” he sang out.  “POOOYOOOOOOO!”

              “Get away from me!” shouted Roy.

              His luck went from bad to worse as he tripped over a twig and sprawled onto his belly.  He scrambled up in time to see Kirby alight on the ground before him, his eyes flashing.  In a flourish, Roy drew the Sword of Seals.  “Stay back!” he warned.

              “Or what?” asked a new voice.  “You’ll hurt him like you did back in Melee?”

              Roy whipped around, the Sword of Seals raised in defense.  “Show yourself!”

              “It’s so easy, isn’t it?  Kicking Kirby around because he’s a little fluffball,” the voice went on.  “The thing is—I don’t take kindly to anyone treating my friend that way.”

              “Where are you?!” The voice seemed to come from everywhere.

              “Follow the cold shiver running down your spine,” responded the voice.

              Roy shrieked.  In seconds, he darted inside the mansion and slammed the door behind him.

              “And now you’ve walked right into my trap,” said the voice.

              The lights flashed on, and our boy Roy found himself face-to-face with the last Smasher he’d ever see!

              “You!” he cried.

              Luigi smiled wickedly.  “Hi, Roy.”

              Roy held his sword in front of him.  “What do you want from me?”

              Luigi stepped toward the Red Lion.  “I want you to explain what made you think it was okay to make poor Kirby miserable fifteen years ago.”

              “Please understand—I was going through a rough time, and…”

              “So, that made you feel better?” asked Luigi.  “ _You_ didn’t walk in on Kirby doing _something_ to himself with his own Final Cutter.  That honor goes to me.”

              “Look, I’m sorry Kirby was pushed that far,” said Roy.

              “Are you?  I know everything, Roy.  I saw all of your posts on the Melee blog.  You went after me for defending Kirby.  Even after fifteen years, you never changed.  First griping about my down throw and conspiring to have it patched, then colluding with others to rig the Smash Ballot, and now _this_.  What you said to me last night was inexcusable.”

              “It was wrong for me to lose my temper.  Forgive me.”

              “That’s what others say, and I always forgive them, only for them to do it again.  What was it this time, Roy?  Were you taking your personal problems out on me, like you did to Kirby?”

              “It wasn’t like that!  I was just sick and tired of you hogging everyone’s attention.  Like Master and Crazy—you expect them to coddle you!  No wonder they went off on tirades during separate occasions!”

              Luigi laughed.  “You’re wrong, Roy.  I don’t need coddling anymore.  And Crazy was right about one thing—I’m capable of taking care of myself.  And I can prove it.”

              “I’m warning you, if you don’t back off of me…”

              Luigi was now a blade’s length from Roy.  “Your threats mean nothing,” he said calmly, seizing Roy’s wrists in a powerful grip.

              Roy gasped as Luigi spun him around and slammed him against the door, arms pinned behind his back.  Luigi plucked the Sword of Seals from the man’s grasp, drove it into both of his wrists and then flung it on the ground before crushing each wounded wrist in a viselike grasp.

              Roy howled and fell to his knees.  “I’m ruined!”

              “I haven’t started ruining you, Roy,” said Luigi, melting the Sword of Seals with green fire.  “You know, you’re not the first person who pretended to be my friend.  And soon, you’ll meet the others.”

              The Red Lion opened his mouth to plead, but Luigi gave him no time, smashing his fists into him.  Our boy Roy’s word exploded in pain and fireworks as Luigi angrily hammered away.  He kept slinging blows at the face until Roy’s jaw was broken and both of his cheeks were smashed.  Then, he unloaded violent blows and Smash attacks on his ribs, stomach and neck, not stopping until all of the bones gave way.  Roy coughed, chunks of blood spurting from his mouth.  “Please…” he croaked.

              Luigi grabbed Roy’s left arm and wrenched the shoulder right out of his socket.  “You honestly expect mercy from me after what you said to me?  You’ve got another thing coming!”  He dislocated the other shoulder and then smashed his nose.

              Roy screamed.

              “Don’t bother.  Nobody can hear you,” snapped Luigi, unleashing a wave of fire at Roy.  He then grabbed Roy and dragged him into the living room, where he slung him onto the couch.

              “What are you gonna do to me?” wailed the Red Lion.

              “You’ll see,” replied Luigi, briefly disappearing.

              He came back moments later, and Roy lost control of his bladder once again when he saw what the plumber had in his hand.

              “Please, no!  Anything but that!”

              “Don’t worry.  That’s last,” said Luigi as he plugged in the power drill.  “First things first…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wrench.  “I’ve had to use this a lot in my plumbing career.”

              His face darkened then, and he slammed the wrench down, bashing it repeatedly against our boy Roy’s arms and legs, biceps and thighs and shoulders.  The bully lay there, prostrate, as Luigi concentrated his fury on his face and neck and upper body.  For the finale, he mashed the wrench against Roy’s groin until he was flopping about in agony.

              Luigi dropped the wrench and stomped hard onto Roy’s solar plexus.  “Do you have any shame over what you’ve done?” he spat.  “Knowing deep in your heart that you were being picked on as much as Kirby at the time?  And why go after me and Daisy?  What did we do to you?  What did we do?!”

              Roy began to cry.

              Luigi whirled around and stomped away, only to return with a can of air-freshening spray in his fist.  In his free hand, a plume of green flame sprung to life.  “I’m curious, Roy,” he said tightly, “have you ever had crème brulèe?”

              He held the can of spray over the green flame and pressed the button.

              Our boy Roy screamed and thrashed as a green inferno enveloped him.

              Luigi emptied the can halfway before he finally stopped.  Horrid burns and blisters now covered Roy’s face and body.  Luigi opened a jar of vinegar and poured it all over the Red Lion.

              “Naga, help me!”

              “You sound a lot like your old boyfriend whose name I won’t mention,” Luigi said coldly, tossing the empty jar aside.  It shattered into pieces on the floor.  As the plumber in green headed for the drill, a thought struck him.  He headed over to the broken jar, carefully picked up the jagged fragments and methodically stuck them into random areas on Roy’s body.  _Now_ he was ready for the coup de grace.

              Luigi grabbed the charged drill, flicked the setting to ON and turned the power up to the max.  Roy’s stomach dropped as the high-pitched screeching reached his ears.

              The eyes of the man he secretly tormented and plotted against condemned him as he stood over Roy, the drill whirring in his hand.

              “This will not be over quickly,” Luigi stated sharply.  “You will not enjoy this.  I am not someone to be used and abused!”

              Knowing that this was the end, our boy Roy had this to say:

              “[ _Bleep_ ] my life!”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              “In fifteen minutes, the time I pre-arranged with our bird friend will expire,” Peach said to Mario.

              Mario pursed his lips as he browsed the anti-Luigi website.  “Freedom of speech, huh?” he muttered.

              “I know, right?  Just keep scrolling—you’ll never know what goodies you’ll come across!”  Peach refilled Mario’s glass of iced tea as she spoke.  “With the increased time on my hands, I was able to get in touch with a lot of people.  Evan and Mandy were a big help, but I encountered a lot of pro-Luigi whistleblowers more than happy to share what they found out about all of this.”

              “I still can’t believe the Triple One Massacre was a conspiracy,” breathed Mario.  “I mean, I had suspicions about it, but it’s not the same as…”

              “I know,” said Peach.

              “When Luigi is presented with whatever intel you have about Falco—I want to be there,” said Mario.  “The two of them were good friends.  God knows what this betrayal will do to him.”

              “He’s been betrayed by a lot of Smashers,” Peach pointed out.  “Ike, DDD, Shulk, Stuart, the Hands, Master Core, Marth, Mewtwo, Pittoo, Kyle and now Roy and Falco.”

              “Let’s make a promise, Princess,” said Mario, “to never take advantage of Luigi, even in situations where it’s justifiable.”

              “Amen,” said Peach.

              Her phone chirped, and Peach answered it.  “Hello?”

              “Princess, Falco has flown,” said the voice on the other end.  “He has refused to honor the agreement.”

              Peach turned red.  “Just as I thought,” she hissed.  She hung up and dialed Evan.

              “Hey, Evan?  It’s me, Princess Toadstool.  I have some bad news.  The time I gave Falco is about to expire, and it seems that he’s about to catch a flight to New York City.  So, when Luigi gets back, you know what to do.  Okay.  Bye!”  She hung up.

              “I don’t yet know how Falco betrayed Luigi, but it must’ve been heinous,” shuddered Mario.

              “You’ve no idea,” murmured Peach, raising her own glass of iced tea to her lips and taking a dainty sip.

             

 

             

                

             

               

 

 

 

             

 

                


 

               


	58. Bounty

              “Hi, Shane,” said Falco as he settled into the airport terminal.  “I got here safely.  Is the jet ready?”

              “Just about.  I’ll have it waiting for you within ten minutes.”

              “Do you know where Roy is?”

              “Vince is waiting for him with a separate jet.  The two of you will be flown to New York, where you will be lodged in our very own hotel.”

              “What will our orders be when we get there?” queried Falco.

              “Lay low.  Lay low until we throw the hounds off the trail.”

              “Lay low.  Perfect.  Bye.”  Falco hung up and stared at the clock.  Tick.  Tick.  Tick.  Tick.  Tick.  Tick.  The second hand counting in precise beats.  Tick.  Tick.  Tick.  Tick.  Tick.  Tick.  Tick.  Each passing second meant that Luigi was one step closer to discovering the avian’s treachery.  Tick.  Tick.  Tick.  Tick.  God, if only he had his Arwing.  Tick.  Tick.  Tick.  Tick.  Tick.

              Tick.

              Tick.

              Tick.

              Tick…

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              In Mario and Peach’s room, the peachy ruler of the Mushroom Kingdom was slowly steering her hero toward the galling truth.  So rattled was he by the brazenness of the chat forums that Peach had to brew some special tea for him.  All according to plan.  At this very moment, Luigi was being escorted into Mandy and Evan’s room, where he’d learn all of the ugly details.  And who knew?  Maybe she’d dig up some more dirt on Crazy Hand.

              She acted like she was okay with her punishment.  Sweet and sugary and polite and smiling and batting her eyes at Crazy, Master and MC, regarding them with blue-eyed innocence and speaking to them with her soft, cheery, breathy voice dripping with forgiveness, feigning shame over what she’d done.  They saw a golden halo shining over her head and fluffy white angel wings growing from her back as she volunteered to help them tidy their offices or organize their paperwork or things like that; she baked them cakes and pies and soufflés and fed them all sorts of chocolates; she fixed them tea and cider and lemonade and Arnold Palmers and the occasional alcoholic cocktail.  She swore on her Star Sprites with misty blue eyes that she’d never lose her temper like that again, that she should’ve handled her anger in a better way and that Crazy made a point when he railed at Luigi that day—virtuous Princess that she was, the three bosses were inclined to believe her, and as the days passed, their friendship and trust gradually mended themselves up.

              But they didn’t see her nights in the Training Area, trading her dress for a bra and capris which stopped right below her hips.  They didn’t see her slide her dainty hands into pink training gloves, sweep her lovely blond hair into a ponytail and set her playlist to J-Pop tunes, girl band hits, the ladies of the 80s and 90s, feisty fireballs by Kelly Clarkson and all other manners of kiss-off tunes and synth and guitars and drums and women belting out tomboyish lyrics.  They didn’t see the sweat standing out on her belly and shoulders and neck and chest and between her breasts as she fluidly moved through the Training Area, pouncing on Sandbags.  They didn’t see what she did to a Sandbag or a Mii training partner willing to stay up late to help fighters clear their heads.  They didn’t see what the Training Room turned into after Luigi walked in on her intense, angry training.  A hurt, enraged, suspended Princess and a hurt, enraged, emotionally scarred plumber in the same room together.  They didn’t see…

              …but they sure as heck heard.  Let them.

              In truth, she wasn’t okay with MH’s sentence.  She was just biding her time.  In her mind, she did nothing wrong.  All she did was defend one of her dominion’s heroes against Crazy Hand’s slanderous speech!  Just like said hero, she was portrayed as the bad guy, and the perps were the victims.  And they had the freaking temerity to call her ability to rule the Mushroom Kingdom into question!  The nerve of them!  Peach was quite capable of managing her kingdom’s affairs, thank you very much.  She could be sugar and spice and everything nice, but if anyone insulted one of her subjects, then they’d activated her Anger vibe!  Peach angry—few had witnessed that, and even fewer had emerged from her rage unscathed!  Crazy Hand had made a dangerous enemy on that fateful day; it was war between them!  Unable to destroy him physically, she’d just have to destroy him from the inside—by hunting for any deep, dark secrets he might have!

              So far, nothing.  But her Mario was gaining an eyeful of Project Nerf, believed until now to be “ridiculous speculation”.  And Operation Ballot Box—just wait till Daisy found out!

              “I’ve seen salt on his playstyle, but never like this,” murmured the red-capped hero.  “Never like this…”

              “You’d be surprised at what you’ll find on the Internet,” Peach stated cryptically.  “People who were once considered your friends—are now your enemies.”

              “What are you talking about?” asked Mario.

              “First, you have Roy.  Kind and protective—and then revealed to be a major troll against poor little Kirby.  Then, there’s Falco, a reliable space pilot so salty over his best friend’s down throw that he plays a role in initiating its nerf.”

              “You told me a little about that…” began Mario.

              “But I didn’t show you the big picture,” sighed Peach, “and for that, I truly apologize.”

              The Mushroom Princess nipped Mario’s ear with her lips before licking the shell and taking the earlobe into her mouth.  Her dainty hands ran down his clothed body, to his stomach, hips and waist, pausing at the pelvic area.  She let her pinkie brush the bulging package down there, drawing an aroused shudder from him.

              “Just think about it,” she whispered in his ear.  “A notoriously brash and cocky avian.  He argues with his own leader sometimes.  Sometimes, his ego gets to him, and he gets salty after losing to certain opponents.  This goes way beyond 20XX.  One would think that given Falco’s loyalty to Star Fox, he wouldn’t let his attitude impede his friendships.  But maybe I’m wrong.”

              “So, you’re saying…?”

              “In a matter of minutes, Luigi’s about to find out how Falco established contact with the Bennigan Brothers and pitched the idea of being an inside man to them,” said Peach, cupping his package with both hands.  “Do you see that little icon over there in the Members tab?  That’s him.”

              Mario groaned at what his Princess was doing as he clicked on the icon.  Sure enough, it was the link to Falco’s profile.  He openly admitted to “kinda” liking Luigi and sharing interests and hobbies with him.  He wasn’t ashamed to chronicle their “friendship”, if you could call it that.  Mario searched for anything suggesting that Falco was playing Luigi, just like Shulk, Stuart and countless others, but nay.  The friendship had been genuine—until the avian let one little complication draw him into a bad crowd.

              “Why didn’t he just say ‘no’?” gasped Mario, devastated.

              “When I found out about Ike, about Shulk and about Marth—I asked myself the same thing,” mused Peach, teasing and rubbing, eliciting soft moans from her hero.  “What makes people turn against their friends just like that?”

              “Money?” proposed Mario.  “Falco was paid a lot of figures for his services.  Greed can be a primary motive.”

              “Greed, pride, lust, wrath, envy,” murmured Peach.  “All of them, deadly sins in their own right.  And one sin begets a worse sin—with betrayal being the worst there is.  All betrayers—of kin, of country, of guests and of benefactors—are cast into the deepest Circle of Hell.”

              “To be incarcerated in ice,” nodded Mario, “though I’m not sure which level Luigi’s betrayers will be cast into.  They were once considered his friends.”

              “Then, they’ll probably be cast into _Judecca_ , where they’re fully encased in ice,” Peach said wisely.  “Like I said, it’s a slippery slope of sin.  Their pride, their wrath, their envy or their greed led to this betrayal.”

              “He gets envious of me sometimes,” reasoned Mario, “yet he doesn’t give in to this slippery slope of sin.  He knows how to handle it.”

              “Or his love for you wins over it,” reasoned Peach.  “That was why he fought back against the hypnosis and the Chaos Heart.  He really loves you, Mario.”

              Peach finally freed little Jumpman from the overalls and kissed Mario’s cheek before laying her head in his lap.  “For what it’s worth, Falco, Roy and the others weren’t really Luigi’s friends at all if they could give into sin so easily,” she murmured before sliding him into her mouth.

              As Peach gave him her attention, Mario continued to peruse the site, purging Falco’s profile for valuable morsels, leverage or both.  Falco confessed to liking Luigi but hating his down throw combos—but he might as well hate Luigi, seeing what his saltiness let to!  On Falco’s page were podcasts of his presentations to the anti-Luigi contingent, copies of his PowerPoint presentations and messages between him and his secondary inside men.

              “They were outside; Falco was inside,” surmised Mario.  “He was their fly on the wall, so to speak, passing intel to them.”

              “He was among the first to put the nerf in Master’s ‘suggestion box’,” Peach added, her mouth full of mini Mario.

              “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Mario advised, his body twitching as his fingers played with Peach’s flaxen curls.  “Did they know about it?  Master and Crazy?”

              She licked him like a Tootsie Roll pop.  “Maybe,” she teased.  “I mean, they were getting complaints about it, convincing them that he was ‘broken’ or ‘overpowered’.  Maybe they thought the conspiracy was just a stupid rumor.  But now we have proof.”

              “Why not go to them?”

              “Honestly, I don’t think they really give a [ _bleep_ ] anymore, especially Crazy,” huffed Peach.

              “You’re still…”

              “Yeah.  I’m the bad guy.  And at the Council, I was sanctioned.  Did I forget to tell you that?  They’re poisoning my people now.”

              Suddenly, he was back in her mouth, her pace angry, her head bobbing up and down, slurping and—

              “Princess, they’ll never poison me.  I promise,” gasped Mario as he arched into her mouth.

              This seemed to calm her, as she slowed and softened.

              “I can’t believe it.  Luigi’s good friend, a primary inside man to these people!  And it was him who suggested the idea—set up meetings with Daddy Sakurai and got the Hands turned on—I just can’t even…”

              He shook his head, his free hand roaming under Peach’s skirt, expertly divesting her of her undergarments and bathing his fingers in her slick wetness, causing her to break her rhythm.  Her cavern practically swallowed his fingers whole.

              “God in Heaven,” she said breathily.

              “Let’s see what else this site will tell us about Falco,” said Mario as his exploration of the hateful website—and of his Princess—continued…

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Back in the terminal, Falco reclined in his seat, eyes closed, earbuds in, as time continued to tick away.  Tick.  Tick.  Tick.

              A few rows across from him sat a woman, cuddling a small pup on her chest, a small suitcase on the chair next to her.

              Tick.  Tick.  Tick.

              “I’ve got him in my sights,” the woman whispered into a walkie talkie.

              Tick.  Tick.  Tick.

              “Good,” crackled a man’s voice.  “We’re gonna send him a little surprise.”

              Tick.  Tick.  Tick.  Tick.

              Evelyn, the woman, smirked at the feathered back of the treacherous avian.  He could lie to himself, to Fox and to the rest of his team.  He could lie to the Smashers and to Master Hand.  He could claim that he hadn’t a qualm.  But he could never run from nor hide what he’d done from the eyes—and ears—of the man in green!

              Tick.  Tick.  Tick.

              Outside the terminal, a man and a woman stood, making out.

              “I hate this,” said the woman.  “He was a good friend of mine.  He helped me in several of my missions.”

              “Me, too,” the man said sadly, “but there’s no other way.  The time has come for all of them to answer for their actions.”

              “Do you think—you already answered for yours?” questioned the woman.

              Douglas sighed.  “I lie in bed at night—and I think about what I did to him all of those years ago—how I hurt him.  But I know in my heart that I’ve atoned for it.  When MH was investigating us—I talked to him and finally got to truly apologize for my actions.”

              “Properly?”

              Douglas nodded and then cupped Samus’s face in his hands.  “I hurt you, too,” he confessed, “when I went off on you after we lost that Team Battle.  I saw the look on your face.  It was a look I never forgot, even after seventeen years.  I…”

              She placed a finger on his lips, shushing him.  “I hated you when you did that.  I can’t lie about that.  I really wanted to punch you a few good times in the kisser.  But—you saw the error of your ways.  Most—don’t.  And Luigi saw how you were bettering yourself and gave you a second chance—and so did I.”

              “Do you lie in bed at night and—remember?”

              Samus gave a sad smile.  “Every night—and it doesn’t hurt less.”

              “But you’ve…”

              “Shh.  Yes.  I forgave you a long time ago.  Forgiveness is good for the soul; with it comes a fresh start.  But even though I forgave, I can never forget.  There’s a difference between forgiving and forgetting.”

              “Can you ever forgive Ridley?”

              “I don’t know.”  Samus sniffled.  “I know that I should, because I’d get closure over losing my parents.  But I was a little girl when I saw him tearing my mom and dad to shreds.  Forgiveness—you have to earn it.  It’s not free.”

              “So you’re saying—the bullies don’t deserve forgiveness?”

              Samus shrugged.  “Unless they apologize and mean it—really mean it.  Like with Ryu.”

              Douglas raised an eyebrow.  “You heard?”

              “The grapevine.  Ryu was probably going by what others said about him.  And then he fought him and saw that he was wrong to judge.  He was sincere in his apology, and I think Luigi saw that.  What about Luigi, by the way?  Does he lie in bed at night and—think about the past?”

              “I think so.  Like you said, he was able to forgive my actions—but unable to forget them.  They kinda shaped who he is today.”

              “And Fox?”

              “He’s gonna be so crushed when he finds out what his trusty co-pilot did,” said Douglas.

              “That’s not what I’m talking about, Douglas.  Though yes, he’s gonna feel so betrayed.  But the truth is—Fox was also cocky back in the day.  Remember how he used to scoff as a taunt?”

              “You must mean…”

              “I do.  Fox also belittled him in those halcyon days—even more so in Melee when he was considered a god.”

              “But he’s not like the others,” said Falcon.  “He saw how his actions hurt Luigi and took the opportunity to change.”

              “Maybe because he wound up mid-tier in Brawl,” shrugged Samus.

              “Or that he was more of a friend to him than Falco,” Douglas theorized.  “I mean, if your friends let pride, ego, jealousy, greed and other crap get in the way, then they’re not really your friends, are they?”

              Samus shook her head.  “No.  They’re not.”

              “So—we’re cool, then?”

              “Yeah.  That Team Battle—it’s ancient history now.”

              Relieved, Douglas kissed Samus, and they proceeded to make out against the window of the terminal, hands beginning to wander.  The good Captain easily got the bounty huntress’s top off and had just started in on her jeans when—

              “Hey, lovebirds!  Keep a sharp eye.  Falco’s getaway jet is coming, and I need you two to intercept it.”

              “Uh—okay, Val!” Douglas replied into his walkie talkie.

              “And we’re not lovebirds,” grumbled Samus.

              “Whatever you say, Sammy.  Wait for my signal.”

              “You got it,” said Samus.

              The two bounty hunters stared at each other.

              “I still wish we didn’t have to do this,” sighed Samus.  “Peach gave him the opportunity to confess on his own.  Why didn’t he take it?”

              “He doesn’t want to accept accountability for what he did,” guessed Falcon.  “Now, where were we…?”

              Tick.  Tick.  Tick.  Tick.  Tick.  Tick—

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Mandy’s dexterous fingers punched an access code into the keypad.  A green light flashed, followed by an elongated _beep_.  She reached into the safe and withdrew a manila folder stuffed with documents, photos and recordings, both audio and video.  “I worked very hard to get this,” she said to the green-clad man sitting on the edge of the bed.

              Luigi gripped the side of the mattress, the anticipation thrumming through his nerves.  “Is that why you summoned me?” he asked.

              “Yeah,” said Evan, sitting next to him.  “While you were dealing with Roy, my wife and I did some more digging on Project Nerf and came across another primary conspirator.  Your enemies,” he paused for gravity, “are closer than you think.”

              “And your friends aren’t who you think they are,” Mandy chimed in.  “Perhaps—they’re not really your friends at all.”

              Luigi blinked.  “What are you trying to tell me?”

              “You trusted these people, heart, body and soul—only for them to throw it in your face,” Mandy said gravely.  “And for what?  Saltiness over losing?  Your metagame?”

              “They were jealous and upset because they couldn’t figure out how to counteract your down throw combos,” added Evan, “and instead of trying to resolve the issue—they let it take them over.  In that folder—is the sad, sad truth about another of your so-called ‘friends’.”

              “We were going to tell you right away,” Mandy told him, “but we decided to be nice and give him a chance to fess up on his own.”

              “We both know he’s not man enough to do that,” mused Luigi.  “He’s a coward, just like the rest of them.”

              “We figured it was worth a try,” said Evan.

              “Is this just about my nerf?” questioned Luigi.

              “No,” said Evan.  “He was involved in Operation Ballot Box, as well.”

              “Look in the folder,” Mandy said cryptically, “and you’ll see.  You’ll see what we’re trying to tell you.”

              Luigi closed his eyes, bowed his head, crossed himself, and opened the manila folder—

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Daisy couldn’t sleep.

              She was on her laptop, video chatting with friends, when she got a new email notification.  Bidding her friends goodbye-for-now, she signed onto her Gmail account and saw the unread message.

              **YOU NEED TO KNOW THIS** , read the subject line.

              “Okay,” Daisy said to herself as she clicked on the message—

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Fox’s cell phone buzzed in his pocket.  Rolling his eyes, the vulpine put his Arwing on autopilot and fished out his mobile device.  Someone had sent him some photos via Google Drive.  Preceding them was this message: “I wish you didn’t have to find out like this.  But you deserve to know the secret life your ace pilot has led.  P.”

              “Peach,” murmured Fox.  What did she know about Falco?  What “secret life” was she talking about?  Was he in trouble?  Did he get mixed up in illegality?  Was he a double agent, working for Star Wolf?  If something was the matter, it was his duty as a leader to help!

              Something in his mind warned him that it also had something to do with Luigi.  He’d heard the rumors of Project Nerf and Operation Ballot Box.  He’d seen the harassment during its heyday on Miiverse—saw it continuing, albeit covertly.  And he’d been there, done that.

              God, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.  Fox was a good vulpine and a good leader.  He was also a good friend.  But one look at a piece of paper and BOOM!  He was uppity and everyone else could drop dead.  At least it hadn’t escalated to Spike’s level of harassment.  The worst he did was pull a few bathroom pranks with Douglas, say a few snide words and look at Luigi down the length of his nose.  And during the 20XX craze, he’d gone a little power-mad, but at least he changed, right?  That made him better than Spike and Marth and Stuart and the others, right?

              What about Falco?  Had he changed after Melee, as well?  What on Earth had he been up to?

              Fox vaguely remembered an exchange he’d witnessed between Falco and Luigi last year.  A mini blowup regarding the latter’s down throw.  Falco had lost to Luigi and minced no words over how salty he was.  The avian had sniped about how tiresome it was to get stuck in combo after combo and sarcastically told Luigi to be thankful for such a marvelous combo game before it was gone forever.  Luigi had responded by storming off to the elevator and curtly acknowledging Falco’s attempt to apologize.  That night, Falco treated Luigi to a fancy dinner to make it up to him, but—their friendship hadn’t been quite the same since.  And judging by the looks of things now—Luigi was starting to think about it again.

              But these photos Peach had sent him—did they have something to do with that mess?  Had Falco taken his saltiness a step too far?  Had he…?

              “He just took off without a word earlier,” he said to himself.  “He’s a good bird, a good comrade.  He must be in some really bad trouble.”

              Steeling himself, the leader of Star Fox opened the photo album—

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              “The jet’s coming in!” announced Samus as she wrestled back into her clothes, not even bothering with a bra.  “We gotta intercept it!”

              “Do you have your armor?” asked Douglas as he struggled into his racer outfit and secured his mask over his face.

              “Don’t worry.  I have my Plasma Beam and my Paralyzer,” Samus assured him.  “Is Evelyn still in there with him?”

              “Yeah.  And he doesn’t suspect a thing,” grinned Douglas.  His visor was snugly over his head, he tied his scarf around his neck and slipped back into his gloves.  Expertly, he checked and armed his tiny sidearm.

              “Why don’t you use that in matches?” asked Samus.

              “I don’t need to with my Falcon Punch.  Yes!”  Falcon rolled his shoulders back.  “Let’s show these guys our moves, Sammy!”

              The duo ran out onto the tarmac in time to witness the jet approaching the runway.  Beside it zipped a Dragoon, as if guarding it, accompanied by a Hocotate ship.  Both crafts came abreast of the jet as it landed smoothly and taxied to the airport.

              “Go!  Go!” commanded Samus, the two of them unholstering their sidearms and racing to confront the pilot.

              Kirby hopped out of the Dragoon, his sword at the ready.  He was followed by Olimar, armed with a small ray and six Pikmin.  Samus and Falcon ran to the nose of the jet, the pilot in their sights.

              “Hands where we can see them!” barked Samus.  “Now exit the aircraft.  Nice and slow.”

              The pilot, obviously knowing that he was cornered, meekly obeyed.  “For God’s sake,” he whined.  “I have a wife and kids!  I needed the money!”

              “Tell it to the judge,” advised Falcon.  “You’re under arrest, buddy.”

              Swiftly, the two bounty hunters cuffed and secured the pilot.  Then, they turned to Kirby and Olimar.  “Thank you,” Falcon said warmly.

              “I was just helping a friend,” blushed Olimar.  Falcon blushed back.

              “Now,” said Samus, “it’s time to cook a bird.”

              Tick.

              Tick.

              Tick—

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Luigi was completely silent as he leafed through the folder Mandy presented him.  Photos of Falco, copies of posts and other writings from Falco, petitions drawn up by Falco, and even the little note he put in the “suggestion box”.  Falco with the Bennigan Brothers, smiling with them, posing with them, chatting cordially with them, forgetting that they wanted to hurt Luigi.  Falco railing against Luigi’s rad combo game and helping propose Project Nerf.  Falco smiling as suitcases stuffed with cash were delivered to him.  The same avian who’d paid him a visit, oozing false concern and feigned comfort, cooing to him that everything would be all right as the plumber vented, had a hand in bringing this about!  It was supposed to be one time.  Only one time!

              And then Falco’s conversations with Daddy Sakurai, discussing not only making Luigi’s life in Smash miserable but also pulling a cruel joke on him and Daisy.  Falco, using Peppy and Slippy and Wolf as excuses to inflate the Ballot counts so Daisy wouldn’t win.  Falco, giving him mock sympathetic looks after that Nintendo Direct presentation shattered his Flower Princess’s world.  Falco, teaming with Daddy Sakurai, Roy, Marth and the other conspirators to rig the Smash Ballot, use Cloud as a diversion, and—

              Daisy’s excited voice in the hours before the fateful announcement.  The optimistic text messages they exchanged.  Him using the Sandbags to sweat out the nervousness.  And the aftermath, the numbness until he saw the broken, rejected look on Daisy’s face.  There had been tears in her eyes!  And then discovering that the Hands knew of this all along, and then Marth’s unkind words, and then the Miiverse posts, and then—and then—and then—

              Did the Hands know about this, too?!  Were they in on it—was Crazy Hand in on it?

              Were they in on his nerf, as well?

              What did he do?  What did he do to be treated like this?!

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Mario had typed “Luigi down throw”, “Project Nerf”, “1.1.1”, “Ballot”, “Operation Ballot Box” and “Luigi and Daisy schemes”, among other phrases, into the search box to see what he could return.  And what he managed to return was a doozy.  Falco’s face or name was in almost every result!  He’d played pivotal roles in both schemes!  He’d reached out to the Bennigan Bros first, suggested the inside men and then “paid off his debt” with his participation in the Ballot-rigging plot.  He’d ranted and raved and whined to anyone who would listen—Master Hand, Daddy Sakurai, and these people—and those twits believed him!  They actually believed him!  Was Master Hand really that gullible?  Were the rumors true?  Was Luigi invited for the sole purpose of placating Mario?  Did they genuinely give a [ _bleep_ ]?  Or were they more focused on profit?

              “What did you find out?” asked Peach, briefly peeking up from Mario’s lap.

              “Falco,” gasped Mario.  “He’s everywhere on here!”

              “Told ya,” said Peach.

              “Where is he?” asked Mario.

              “At the airport.  Falcon and Sammy are picking him up as we speak.”

              “I just hope Luigi saves some of that bird for me!”

              “Oh, I’m sure he will,” grinned Peach before resuming her ministrations.

              “Why?” asked Mario.  “Just—why?”

              “Envy, plain and simple,” murmured Peach, “which led to hate, which led to wrath and greed, which led to—betrayal.”

              “But why did he target Daisy?  Was it only to pay off his debt to the Bennigan Brothers?  Was it for more money?  Was it…?”

              “I wish I knew, Mario,” sighed Peach as she enfolded him in her warm hands.  “I wish I knew.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Falco, engaged in innocent banter with Evelyn, could still hear the ticking clock and the beat of his heart.  Evelyn, seemingly oblivious, went on and on about the weather, future matches and future Nintendo games.

              The sound of twin footsteps caused both of them to look up.

              “What a nice surprise,” Evelyn said innocently.  “I’ll leave you two to catch up while I powder my nose.”  And with that, she scurried away.

              Falco smiled nervously as Falcon and Samus approached him.  “Hey, you two,” he greeted.

              “Hey, Falco,” said Samus.

              “Sorry I’m leaving without the slightest notice,” shrugged Falco.  “Something came up.”

              “Save it, Falco,” Falcon said in a clipped voice.  “We hate to bear bad news, but guess what?”

              “What?”

              “Your flight’s been cancelled,” smirked Falcon.

              “You’re coming with us,” added Samus.

              “Wait, what?” balked the avian as the two hoisted him to his feet.  “But—I didn’t do anything!”

              “We have a friend who says otherwise!” snapped Samus as she and Falcon began marching the Brooklynite away.  “Now let’s move!”

              “This is ridiculous!  This is insane!” hollered Falco, struggling to break free.  “I haven’t done anything wrong!  I’m not the bad guy—it’s those Bennigan Brothers!  They forced me into this!  I demand a fair hearing!  You can at least grant me that!”

              “And what did you grant Luigi?  A nerf?” hissed Douglas as the trio reached the Blue Falcon.  “Watch your head.”  Unceremoniously, he tossed the busted bird inside.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Daisy’s hand was clamped over her mouth, her eyes bugged and her face ashen, as she read the documents, posts, letters and transcripts implicating Falco.  Falco Lombardi!  He and Luigi were supposed to be good friends!  Why would he go after her?  The down throw nerf, she could understand, but rigging the Smash Ballot?  Was it further revenge for being stuck in combo after combo?  Or was he not really Luigi’s friend at all?

              Over and over, her mind played the day her dreams were rent apart.  Eating nachos and exchanging steamy texts with her plumber.  Her fan base, so confident that she’d be picked.  Giving her attendants the rest of the day off.  And then seeing that Umbra Witch, smirking at the camera.  The rejection was like a massive blow to the heart.  It was like nobody cared about her.  And then the Miiverse stuff started, which escalated into those plushie burnings, lootings, raids, physical harassment and then the garbage with Spike, Koopa and Claude!  And Falco had been among those who started it all!

              “Oh, God!” she cried in a strangled voice.  “I think I’m gonna be sick!”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              “Falco, I don’t care what you’re doing.  I need to have a word with you.  Immediately!” Fox barked into the voicemail before hanging up with a frustrated huff.  He was still in denial, what his loyal comrade had done to Luigi.  A single squabble had set everything off.  Wasn’t there another way?  Like, you know, practicing or watching tutorials?  Why choose to attack Luigi directly?  He didn’t do anything!  He didn’t need to be nerfed!  He wasn’t OP!  Now what was Fox going to do when Falco showed up?  Confront him?  Punch him?  Dismiss him?  What was he going to tell Slippy, Falco and Krystal?  And Katt—poor Katt—she loved Falco to death!  How was Fox supposed to break this to her?

              “If this was brought on by the way I acted back in the day, then I’m sorry!” lamented Fox.  “I’m sorry I shaped you to be like this!  I changed, but why didn’t you?”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              “This isn’t possible,” Luigi said in a gasping voice as he looked over the evidence again and again.  His blood pressure began to rise.  His breath came fast.  His face reddened, and he was hot all over.  His eyes flashed dangerously.  His heart slammed against his chest.  His mind replayed Falco’s sardonic words to him last year.  He’d apologized and promised never to do it again—and he broke that promise a fortnight later!  Some friend he turned out to be!  Some friends they all turned out to be!

              “ _This isn’t possible!”_

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Hastily, Peach tucked Mario back into his overalls.  “He’s found out,” she said urgently.

              “I—what?” Mario slid his fingers from her and licked them clean.

              “We’ll finish this later.  He’s found out!”

              Something registered inside of Mario, and he leapt to his feet.  “Mamma mia!  He knows!”

              He powered off the computer, adjusted his clothes and cap and bounded out the door, Peach close behind him.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              The ride back to the Smash Mansion was subdued.  Falco clenched his wings in his lap and bowed his head in prayer as Samus sat beside him.  Douglas drove his beloved craft as if he was at the F-Zero Grand Prix, eager for this traitor to get what was coming to him.  He sneered at the avian’s reflection in the rearview mirror.  “Pray while you still can—cause Luigi won’t wanna hear them!”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              “L—we need you to calm down,” Evan was saying as Luigi paced the room.  “We know how hard this must be for you and Daisy.  But Falco will be here soon, and you have to wait until we get a confession from him.”

              “No, I don’t have to do a thing,” Luigi said tightly, “because I’ve had it up to here.”

              In seconds, his voice shot up several decibels.  “Do they know who I am?!” he demanded, slamming a desk with his fist.  “ _Do they know who I am?!  I’m-a Luigi, number one!  I am the other half of the Super Mario Bros!  I am the key difference between Mario’s glorious victory and an agonizing defeat at the hands of his enemies!  I am one third of the reason why the Smashers aren’t scattered around somewhere as lifeless trophies!  And those [_ bleeps _] have [_ bleep _]-ed me in the [_ bleep _] for the last time!  I will have them ELIMINATED—TERMINATED—with extreme prejudice!  Like—like—Fawful and the Dark Star X!_ ”

              He was in tears, crying in pain and frustration and anger.  He had no one to turn to.  No one—but Mario, Peach, DK, Diddy, Yoshi, Evan, Mandy, Evelyn, Val, Daisy, the other Smashers who were kind to him—and himself.

              “Luigi?!” Mario burst into the room with Peach at his elbow.  “Luigi—are you all right?”

              “No!  No, I’m not all right!” Luigi collapsed into his brother’s embrace.  “And thanks to those dead set on making my life miserable, I’ll never be ‘all right’ again!”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Immediately upon receiving word of his pilot’s arrest and Falco being exposed, Shane, Vincent and Manny ordered their secret networks to cease operations.  In cities from L.A. to Denver to Chicago, Luigi haters, Daisy haters, bullies, cyberbullies and trolls hastily packed their things and destroyed or shredded anything which would incriminate them.  Not that it would do anything—Evan and Mandy and Peach had copies of the evidence saved on flash drives.  Technicians worked to deactivate the anti-Luigi website, but it was too late.  Luigi and his friends had already seen it and obtained irrefutable proof.  Airports became crowded with these bullies, purchasing one-way tickets to New York City.  Their cars, minivans and motorhomes jammed up traffic on the freeway in a desperate bid to escape.  Trains from the California Zephyr to the Lakeshore Limited were fully booked, chugging the anti-Luigi contingent to the Big Apple or anywhere the Bennigan Brothers or Daddy Sakurai would keep them safe.  Cruise ships, motorboats—even professional rowers on rowboats skimmed the clear blue waters, hoping to put as much open water between them and Luigi as they could.

              The mass exodus of Luigi’s tormentors had begun!

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              At three in the morning, Master Hand was jarred from his slumber by frantic pounding on the door.

              “Hold your horses; I’m coming!” he said blearily as he floated unsteadily to the door and opened it.

              “Master Hand,” greeted Fox.  “I’m sorry to bother you at this hour, but I didn’t know who else to call.  I—there’s something you need to see.”

              “Come in, Fox,” said Master, stepping aside so the vulpine could enter.

              Fox produced his cell phone, pulled up the photos Peach gave him and showed them to Master.  “I don’t know if these are real or not, but—remember that rigmarole about patch 1.1.1?”

              “You mean those crazy rumors about a conspiracy?”

              “The conspiracy was freaking real, Master Hand!  I have the proof right here!  She emailed me letters, petitions, transcripts—the whole nine yards!” Fox broke in.  “And Falco—he was part of it!”

              “Dear God,” gasped Master.  “He will answer for his actions, I assure you!”

              “Samus and Falcon caught him as he tried to flee,” explained Fox.  “Here, I just emailed this stuff to you.”

              “You have nothing to apologize for, Fox.  You were right to come to me about this.”

              “Oh—about that—Luigi just found out, too.  So, you might wanna think of a way to punish him, and fast.”

              “If Luigi didn’t punish him already,” groaned Master.  “Wow—I can’t believe it was real.  I heard rumblings about it, but I thought it was impossible.  An actual group trying to get one of my Smashers nerfed!  I can’t comprehend it!  Everyone else who had a hand in it will be punished—severely!”

              “Better catch them before they all flee to New York,” shrugged Fox.

              “Is Luigi in his room?  I need to speak to him,” said Master.

              “Uh—I peeked in there, and—he doesn’t look like he wants your company.  He’s very upset,” warned Fox.

              “Well, whether he likes it or not, I’m having a word with him!” Master said firmly.  “This has gone on long enough!”

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              The Blue Falcon glided to a stop at the Smash Mansion.  Douglas and Samus hopped out and fetched Falco from the backseat.  During the ride, the avian had accepted the fact that his fate was sealed and went with the two bounty hunters quietly, save for a few grumbles.  He didn’t even react when he was marched straight to Luigi’s room.

              They paused at the door, where Samus knocked thrice.  After a few seconds, the door opened, revealing Mandy.  “Can I help you?”

              “Well, here he is,” said Samus, indicating Falco.

              “You might wanna detain him in his room till his ex-friend has a chance to calm down,” said Mandy.

              “Ex—friend?” Falco repeated.

              “Yeah, Falco.  He knows everything now,” smirked Mandy.

              Falco cursed under his breath.  “It didn’t have to be this way.”

              “Yeah.  Perhaps if you had practiced instead of ranted…”  Mandy paused and took a few calming breaths.  “I hope you can explain yourself to Luigi once he’s ready to see you.  And may God have mercy on your soul.”

              Falco reached into his pocket and pulled out a white envelope.  “I meant to give this to him,” he said quietly, “but I just—ran out of time.  It’s my confession.”

              Mandy took the envelope.  “I don’t know if he’ll want to read it, but I’ll give it to him anyway,” she murmured.  “Douglas, Sam—take him to his room, and watch him closely.  We don’t want him trying to escape again, do we?”

              Falcon and Samus nodded and marched Falco down the hall.

              “Now wait a minute,” boomed a voice.

              Mandy whirled.  “Master Hand?”  Quickly, she stepped outside and shut the door.

              “Fox told me everything,” Master explained.  “I—I don’t know what to say.”

              “You read the patch notes yourself, and you didn’t even suspect it was a plot,” Mandy said flatly.

              “Not one bit,” Master stated sadly.

              Falco was disbelieved.  “Fox knows, too?”

              “Someone sent him the evidence,” said Master Hand.  “I am very disappointed in you, Falco.  What would Star Fox think about this?”

              “What else I was supposed to do?” challenged Falco.  “I was sick and tired of those combos and I wanted them to just—go away!”

              “Samus, Captain Falcon—escort Falco to my office, where I shall speak with him on this matter.  Right now, though, I think a talk with Luigi is in order.”

              “Well, good luck with that,” sighed Mandy.  “He’s distraught, and I don’t think he has anything to say to you.”

              “Worth a shot,” said Master before opening the door and floating inside.

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              “Luigi,” said Master Hand as he entered the room.  “Never in a million years would I believe that someone would go so far as to manipulate this tournament’s mechanics just to get at you.  I should’ve known there was something fishy behind patch 1.1.1.”

              “Yes,” Luigi said, tears dried, voice calm.  “You should’ve.  But the nerf actually changed me for the better.”

              “Indeed,” nodded Master Hand.  “I—wish I knew how to comfort you regarding this, Luigi.”

              Luigi smiled at him.  “You already are.  And I have to give you credit—you had no way of knowing the sordid truth behind that patch.”

              “Or Operation Ballot Box,” added Master.  “How corrupt has this society become?”

              “So,” said Luigi.  “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

              “Fox came to my door, distraught, and told me everything.  I knew that Falco’s betrayal would destroy you.”

              “It’s not the first time,” Luigi said somberly.  “I had a lot of betrayers in my life.  Ike rejecting me for the cooler crowd, DDD saving my life and then turning it into a joke, Shulk taking advantage of my hospitality and humiliating me in public, Stuart getting me into trouble, Marth insulting Daisy to my face, Mewtwo, Kyle and Kuro pulling that stunt on me, and now Roy and Falco…”  He closed his eyes in sorrow.  “Why do they enjoy exploiting me?”

              “I don’t know.  You have a history of being a pacifist, a peacemaker, a mediator.  Quick to forgive and slow to judge.  Wholeheartedly accepting.  I guess they assumed that they could get away with doing essentially anything to you.”

              “Well, they assumed wrong,” snapped Luigi, “and by the time I’m through with them…”

              “L, I’ve launched a full scale investigation.  I’m close to getting names, contacts and locations.”

              “And they’ll all be convicted, just to have those convictions inexplicably overturned,” shrugged Luigi.

              “Not this time.  I’ll make sure that their slimy friends won’t be able to help them.  And L?”

              “What?”

              “I’m glad you understand that we were unaware with the situations regarding the nerf and the Ballot.”

              “Doesn’t change the fact that you knew that I was getting nerfed and that Daisy wasn’t going to make it in,” Luigi said frankly.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

              “It would ruin the surprise,” explained Master.  “If I told you before anyone else, then it wouldn’t have been fair.”

              “Of course.  Surprises and fairness factor into the equation, and if you gave me a sneak peak, then everyone else would have to get one, too.”  Luigi shrugged.  “The way Daisy and I were being treated online and how our fans suffered wasn’t really fair, but hey, that was all out of your control.  All of this business is beyond your control.  That’s where I come in.”

              “Granted, it’s so easy to turn to vigilantism.  It gives you some sense of justice.  But you’ve got to understand, taking matters into your own hands isn’t the right thing to do.”

              “If that’s true, then why does it feel right to me?”

              “It’s right at first—before it turns wrong.  L—revenge won’t undo this mess, and I know I gave some of this the benefit of the doubt.  Yet I never will again.  Cross my heart.”

              “By the way, how’s that ‘see something, say something’ policy working out for you?” asked Luigi.

              “It’s—working.  Leave it at that,” smiled Master.

              “Thanks for the talk,” Luigi said softly.

              “You’re welcome,” said Master.  “Try to get some sleep.  I’ll deal with Falco.”

              Luigi watched as Master Hand floated out of the room.

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              “How could you?”

              Pain was in Fox’s eyes as he faced his copilot.  Falco, in contrast, sat back in his seat like he just didn’t care.  In truth, however, he hated the disappointment, anger, hurt and betrayal he saw on his leader’s face.

              “How could you?  After everything you have in common—after everything you weathered?  He trusted you, and so did I.  You were his best friend.  How could you turn on him like this?”

              “It wasn’t like that,” Falco said dully.  “I was frustrated, and I let it take over.  I would never hurt him.”

              “I didn’t want to believe the information Peach mailed to me.  It was—unthinkable,” hiccupped Fox.  “This isn’t you, Falco.  It’s like you’re channeling a salty For Glory scrub.  I mean, surely, this must be a mistake.  Please, just tell me it’s a mistake, and I’ll believe you.”

              “It wasn’t supposed to end that way,” objected Falco.  “I swear.  All I wanted were a few minor tweaks, not a major nerf.”  He suddenly turned hot and defensive.  “I had good reason for what I was doing, Fox, and that’s the truth!”

              “You and the truth, sitting in this office, hoping against hope that Master Hand deals with you before Luigi does,” Fox said sharply.  “I live in the presence of great truth.  And that is the truth you left behind when you allied yourself with the Bennigan Brothers.”

              “I thought it was for the best,” snapped Falco.

              “Best for who?” challenged Fox.  “Best for Smash—or best for you?”

              “The Bennigan Brothers and I were just talking, and then they tangled me in their web.  Fox, you’ve got to believe me.  This isn’t what I wanted!”

              “My God,” gasped Fox.  “I have physical evidence that you initiated contact with those guys, willingly spoke at their meetings and set the ball rolling for the ‘inside man’ business and the meetings with Daddy Sakurai.  And yet you still lie to my face?”

              “You oughta know how vicious these Luigi fans are,” Falco retorted.  “So desperate to make their favorite plumber a martyr that they have no problems twisting the truth!”

              Fox was pale and ashen.  “You know what?  Maybe a few day’s suspension will do you some good,” he said finally.  “In the meantime, I hereby order you to appear before the Lylat Disciplinary Council tomorrow afternoon.  May God have mercy on your soul.”

              And then the vulpine walked away without looking back.

              “And who are you to punish me?” Falco bellowed after him.  “You’re no choirboy—you once thought low of him yourself!”

              That stopped Fox cold in his tracks.  “What did you say?” he asked in a quavering voice.

              “You heard me.”

              Slowly, Fox turned around to face the avian he’d relied on for over 23 years.  Tears shone in his eyes.

              “I thought you’d at least have the decency not to bring that up,” he gasped.  “How silly of me.  Do you know how many nights I spent awake in my bed, wishing I could take all of that back?  Are you aware that I have to live with my past actions for the rest of my life?”

              “For me, I just shove it into the back of my mind and forget about it,” sniffed Falco.  “And look at you.  You’re being a furry little hypocrite.  You certainly didn’t worry about being punished when you were celebrating being at the top for the duration of two tournaments.”

              “While I did let the top tier-dom get to my head, I would never, ever do something like that,” asserted Fox, “and I can’t believe that you’re sitting here and comparing the two.  What I did was tame compared to your betrayal and lies.  I…” He turned away before he could lose his temper.  “I can’t talk to you anymore.  And I hope both Master Hand and Luigi show you no leniency.”

              With those parting words, Fox bolted from the office and into his room.

              And he cried.

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              Daisy was crying, each sob stabbing Luigi straight in the heart.  “How could they do this to you?  To me?” she blubbered.

              At first, he’d wanted to charge into Master Hand’s office, where Falco was detained, and demand confirmation of his deception and lies.  But then he remembered Daisy.  Checking in on her and making sure she was okay was his top priority right now.

              “I should’ve been there when you found out,” sighed Luigi, “but I found out seconds before you.”

              “But Falco—I can’t believe that he was behind this.  Learning that the Ballot was rigged is reliving that day all over again!  Did he always hate me?”

              “I honestly have no way of knowing—I’m trying to wrap my mind around it myself,” Luigi told her.  “Falco and I argued once about my down throw—but it was only one time, and he seemed sincere with his apology.  He might have been plotting that during our dinner that night.”

              “Do they hate us that much?” Daisy questioned softly.

              “Maybe they just used you to get to me,” murmured Luigi.  “I’m sorry about this, _Princesa_.  This came out of the blue.  When can I see you and make it all better?”

              “Right now, I need some time alone,” said Daisy.

              Luigi hummed in understanding.

              “But you can see me anytime tomorrow,” she added.

              “Okeydokey.  I’ll be there.”

              “Will you be okay?”

              “I don’t know.  Will _you_ be okay?”

              “I—I think so…”

              “Sleep well, Princess, knowing that soon Falco and the rest of them will get what’s coming to them.”

              “Okay, I love you, Luigi.”

              “ _Ti amo, Princesa_.”

              Luigi hung up, deciding to deal with Falco tomorrow, or perhaps give the Hands another shot in dealing with the perp.  Actually, just Master Hand.  It seemed that he cared more than Crazy Hand, and he was genuinely impressed in his abilities when he called the Original Twelve back in 1999.  But he guessed Crazy Hand really _was_ the Hand of Destruction—he positively destroyed the man in green when he yelled at him that day, and he destroyed Peach, too!  Nothing would please him more than to discover a sordid secret of Crazy’s to hold over his head—maybe next time he’d think before saying such cruel things to a cowardly hero!

              Just as he was about to doze off, though, he heard faint sniffling and sobbing.  Luigi hopped out of bed, emerged from his room, and came upon…

              “Fox?” he asked.

              Fox looked up, eyes reddened and puffy, his face blotchy.  “Uh—don’t mind me, L, I’m just…”  He burst into fresh sobs.

              “Oh, no, you don’t.  Come here.”  Luigi wrapped the vulpine in a hug.  “How about we head to the kitchen, enjoy some tea, and then you tell me what happened?”

              “S-sure.  Thanks,” Fox said shakily.

              In minutes, Fox had a blanket around his shoulders and a warm cup of tea in his paws.  Luigi sat across from him, sipping his own tea, gazing at Fox with warm, concerned eyes.  Confronted with those eyes, blinding guilt struck Fox like a laser beam.

              “I—I don’t deserve this treatment,” he sniffled.  “Not after what I did back in the day…”

              “Fox, c’mon.  We’re not here to talk about that.”

              “But I hurt you.  Badly.  And so did Douglas…”

              “Shh.  It’s okay.  I knew that you weren’t just sorry you were caught.  You were actually sorry that you did and said those things.  And so I forgave you.  Is—that what this is about?  Do you still feel guilty after all these years?”

              “I do.  When I was nerfed in Brawl, I felt like I was being punished for the way I acted.  And honestly, I don’t blame them for placing me where I am today.  But—that’s not why I was upset.”

              “It’s all right, Fox.”

              “No, it’s not all right!  I’m supposed to set an example for my team, and there I was in the first two tournaments, acting like some rich jock!  No wonder Falco turned out like this!”

              Luigi’s heart froze.  “What does this have to do with Falco?”

              “I just wanted to know why he did that to you,” explained Fox, “and we got into it.  He said some things…”

              “Did he insult you?”

              “He—he brought up how I treated you.  In Smash 64 and in Melee.  And he called me a hypocrite!  How could he have the temerity to compare the two?”

              “What he did was more egregious than your behavior back then!  He actually said that to you?!”

              “I guess he was upset that I summoned him before the Lylat Disciplinary Council.”

              “But you’re his leader!  What he just said to you was insubordination!”  Luigi was starting to boil!  “Listen, Fox.  At first, I didn’t think I’d forgive you.  I hated how you acted.  But—I could never hate you.  Falco—that was unacceptable on his part.  And unforgivable.  I hate what he did to me—how he betrayed me—and now I hate him, too!”

              “I feel you, man.  I’m not gonna vouch for him at the disciplinary hearing, either.  Star Fox won’t tolerate that kind of attitude!”

              He began to drink down his tea.  “This is very good tea,” he said.  “I really need this.”

              “It’s a special calming blend,” explained Luigi.

              “Hm.  Good to know.”  Fox smiled.  “Thank you, L.  I feel more at peace than I ever had.  Now I know that you forgive me for how I acted in the past.  And for the first time in seventeen years, I shall sleep well.”

              “Just don’t take advantage of my forgiveness.  Because then there might be problems,” Luigi said, half-jokingly.

              Fox nodded.  “Of course.  Thanks for the tea.”

              “You’re welcome.  Sleep tight, now.”

              Luigi watched as Fox rose and returned to his room.  While it was true that his mind drifted into the past during the quiet hours of the night, it tended to focus more on the actions of remorseless bullies, like the four jocks Evan helped him fight off, like Raymond Sinclair, like Stuart Bennigan, like Koopa and his wayward sons and like recent tormentors from Marth to Spike.  It was once in a while that he thought about Douglas and the name he called him, and Fox and his 20XX garbage in Melee.  They hurt, yes, but at least they were remorseful.  A lot of bullies and haters weren’t.

              He’d wanted to have that talk with the both of them for so long.  But then, they’d come to see him that day as he busied himself with artwork, ready to apologize.  The fact that they initiated the much-needed conversation touched him.  They’d grown significantly from when they first met in 1999.  Still, for him to actually say that he forgave Fox and Falcon brought peace to the three of them.

              But there were far pressing matters to deal with at the moment.  Like Falco.  It made him sick, learning that the avian talked down to his leader like that.  After having each other’s backs for 23 or so years, why would Falco throw things like this into Fox’s face?  Which transgression was worse, disrespecting Fox or stabbing Luigi in the back?  The plumber soothed himself with some more gulps of tea, still sticking by his decision to let Master Hand and the Lylat Disciplinary Council handle his former friend.  Maybe Falco would wind up kicked out of both the tournament and the Star Fox team.  Perhaps a few dishonorable discharges would shape him up.

              As he returned to his own room, Luigi dared to imagine the disgraced Star Fox pilot crawling up to him, begging him for forgiveness, for a second chance.  Fear and shame in his eyes.  And Luigi would leave Falco hanging for days, weeks, even months—just like Fox and Falcon and some of the more remorseful bullies.  But perhaps Falco would never achieve redemption at all.  Both would just have to see how things turned out.

              Smiling at the mere thought of Falco blubbering like a baby, confronted with what he’d done, Luigi set his mug near his nightstand, turned off the lights, and turned in for the night.

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_The next morning…_      

              “Master Hand!”

              The glove turned at Samus’s shout.  “What is it, Sam?”

              “Falco has escaped!” the bounty huntress reported as Douglas caught up with her.

              “He got the jump on both of us in the office!” added Falcon.  “He’s gone!”

              “What?  But how?” Master pulled himself together.  “Don’t worry about it.  Mistakes happen.  Just pray that I find him before Luigi does.”

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              Luigi’s eyes opened as soon as the morning sun slat through his window.  He hopped out of bed and into a warm shower, pampering himself with his favorite body wash.  Then, he dressed in his Ice Flower uniform, slapped on a Timex wristwatch and headed to the cafeteria for breakfast.

              “Good morning,” greeted Mario as soon as he saw his baby bro.

              “Morning,” Luigi cheerily replied.

              “Hi, L!” chirped Peach.

              “Princess.”

              “So,” said Lucina as soon as Luigi sat down.  “What are you planning to do with…?”

              “I decided to let Master Hand handle it this time,” Luigi said frankly, “but if Falco somehow slips by him, _then_ I’ll do something.”

              “I just can’t put my finger on it,” sighed Lucy.  “Why raise this ruckus over someone’s down throw?”

              “Everyone has a salt-inducing move,” said Mario.  “We have my up-tilt, Lucy’s Shield Breaker, footstooling, the Falcon Punch, the Reflector, the Cape, Kirbycide—and other fighters who can combo for days.  They could’ve singled any one of us.”

              “But they picked me because—because…” started Luigi.

              “They were running out of reasons to make fun of you,” sighed Link.  “That’s my guess.”

              “Or they wanted to keep you in a bad place,” shrugged Rosalina.

              “Or because you’re Player Two,” offered Cloud.

              “Diddy’s Player Two, as well,” contested Reflet, “and his Banana Peel induces salt.  It certainly did in my case.”

              “You want to know my theory?” Corinne spoke up.  “Luigi has historically been labeled as timid, shy, awkward, clumsy and cowardly.  Why else did they stick him at the bottom in the beginning?  But Luigi challenged those mores and those labels and steadily rose to a powerhouse.  His haters didn’t like that, so they decided to hit him with this curveball to ‘keep him in his place’.  But like I said, it’s just a theory.”

              Rosalina beamed at her clever beau.  “You have a point there, Cori,” she said.

              “All of his life, he’s worked to break that mold,” sighed Lucina.

              “And just when he’s almost free…” said Little Mac.

              “…they find ways to cast him back in,” finished Ryu.

              “But you know what?  I’m gonna keep trying,” vowed Luigi.  “I’ll try and try and try until I’m beaten all over, and then I’ll try and try some more!”

              “That’s my bro!” crowed Mario.

              “And let me tell you something else,” Luigi said ominously.  “Those bullies fleeing to the Big Apple had better start to pray.”

              He left it at that, and everyone else took it as a cue to change the subject of their conversation.

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              After breakfast, Luigi went to the gym, hoping to warm up before the day’s matches commenced.  Evan accompanied him, his hands wrapped, and they were the first ones there.  Without a word, Luigi produced his iPhone and set his playlist to Shuffle, and then turned to face his roommate, fists raised.  No preamble was required as they commenced, striking, baiting, reading and deflecting as Luigi’s favorite songs blasted over the sound system.  A good fifteen minutes elapsed before Mandy quietly entered, wearing shorts and a nude sports bra.  She made no move to interrupt, spectating the skirmish between the two men which culminated in Luigi forcing Evan to tap out.  The plumber eased off of his roomie and helped him up, and that was when they noticed Mandy.

              She wasn’t smiling.

              Which meant that something was up.

              “Am I in trouble?” asked Evan.

              “Did Master Hand let Falco off the hook?” Luigi ventured to ask.

              “When someone enters the gym dressed like this, they didn’t come to answer questions,” Mandy said simply.  “I gotta get this out of my system first.  _Then_ we’ll talk.”

              “Sounds good,” said Evan.  He turned to Luigi.  “You first.”

              He darted off to find a shady spot as his wife darted at Luigi, just as loaded for bear as him.  The man in blue could tell by the ferocity of her blows that she was very angry about something—or some _one_.  Did she and Evan have their first fight as a married couple?  Or did she do some more research and discover something else up the Bennigan Brothers’ sleeves?  He wasn’t really in the mood to find out now, so he just settled with keeping Mandy engaged, swooping in with his most fearsome attacks, keeping her grounded and keeping her camped out.  She was close to rivaling him in neutral and surpassed him in the air and offstage.  Her edgeguard, approach and gimping options were better in both quantity and quality.  Maybe if he hadn’t been nerfed, he’d manage to out-neutral her.  He quickly forced the self-pitying thought from his mind.  He was still good, still holding his own, still conditioning her and setting up brand new combos and strategies.  She paused, kicked off her shoes and then really went at him, and Luigi discovered that she actually fought better barefoot.  Maybe she could do like the Wii Fit Trainers, Corrin, Corinne and Ryu and bare her feet on the Battlefield.

              An hour later, she had him pinned with melee punch and elbow attacks.  He spent five or so more minutes toying with her before dealing out several body shots which immediately turned the tide.  But she was a fighter, and they had a rally going for fifteen more minutes before the spar ended in a draw.

              “Thanks, Luigi,” Mandy said softly, her face softer but still unsmiling.

              “Anytime.”

              Mandy’s eyes then traveled over to meet Evan’s as he stepped out to meet her.  He looked her over, sweat plastered on every inch of her body, making her bra a little see-through.  As far as he was concerned, that was for the best.

              Luigi was now in the spot Evan had vacated, catching his breath, sweat also pouring all over his body.  He unhooked his overall straps, pulled off his shirt and then re-fastened his straps, using the blue garment as a towel.  Then, he made himself comfortable and watched Mandy spar with her husband, noticing a few more differentiations of her fighting style from his.  She was always graceful, not flat on her feet but on the balls of her feet or on tiptoe, moving so lightly that her footfalls were quiet.  Determined to keep his blood circulating, Luigi hopped onto a stationary bike and programmed a high-intensity workout into the machine, pedaling hard as he listened to his two friends go at it, punching and huffing.

              “Don’t get too comfy up there,” panted Mandy, noticing him after forty-five minutes.  “I still need to tell you my news.”

              “Okay,” gasped Luigi, cranking up the intensity yet again until his legs started to ache.  He powered off the exercise bike, slid off and took a big swig of his sports drink.  Mandy and Evan were still going at it, so he tiptoed in, as he usually did during a free-for-all, and took a swing at his roomie.  Evan ducked, and Mandy sidestepped before she could catch the blow.  Without missing a beat, Luigi mixed it up at once, sparing nothing to either of his sparring partners.  Soon, all three were pounding away at each other, utilizing the open space, Luigi flicking fireballs every so often.  By the time things settled back down, their clothes were sopping, their mouths were wide-open and they were in dire need of a shower.  Finally, Mandy allowed a lazy smile to cross her lips.

              “Okay,” she said between breaths.  “Now I can tell you my news.”

              “Good—or bad?” panted Luigi, wiping his face and chest with his shirt.

              “When Falco intended to flee by jet, he was going to leave you a letter,” explained Mandy.  “It’s currently in my possession.”

              “Do you have it?” asked Evan.

              Mandy reached into her duffel bag and pulled it out.  “The thing is—I don’t know if I should let you read this.  I mean, I read it, and—well—it doesn’t look good.  And I’m sure you heard enough yesterday.”

              “You mean—he didn’t apologize?” gasped Luigi.

              Mandy handed Luigi the piece of paper.  “You’ll see when you read it,” she said.

              Luigi hardly dared to breathe as he unfolded the paper—

_Hey, L,_

_I know that there’s nothing I can say or do to ease the pain of my betrayal.  But let’s face it, it happened, so why spend the rest of my life kicking myself over it?  By the time you read this, I will be far, far away, and I’ve decided to cut my losses and flee because first of all, Fox will have my hide when he finds out, and second of all, Master Hand will be over me when he finds out.  So you ask me, why bother staying?_

              “No—this is a joke—no person would dream of writing such a letter to their best friend…” spluttered Luigi.

              _I mean, who knew there was a machine in place to initiate what I foretold that day?  And headed by Stuart’s brothers?  Bonus points!  I warned you, didn’t I?  I warned you that you wouldn’t have those combos for everyone to fawn over for long!  Before I go, I just wanted to say that seeing your nerf on paper was absolutely worth the risks I took to pull one over on you!  Colluding with the Bennigan Bros to slowly erode your foundation until you came tumbling down—how I cut you down to size was one of the greatest things I ever did outside of Star Fox, and I only regret that it didn’t impact you as much as we hoped.  Especially when you came knocking on my door on that beautiful day; man, I was the last person you suspected, wasn’t I?  I let you lay your weary head on my shoulder, just thinking about how a battle between us would’ve looked now, your skills in neutral failing you as I creamed you into the next galaxy.  Oh, it would’ve been so nice to draw blood from you, but I guess that would’ve given me away!  Hey, do you remember when you were doing your thing with the Sandbags, and then Kuro came in to throw you under the bus?  What he said before you got the drop on him was pure gold!  Just remember, pal, no matter what Mario or Peach or your little friends tell you, you are a n—b, and one of the greatest I’ve ever known.  And one more thing—I saw the look on your face when you flipped through the patch notes and saw what befell your precious down throw, and that’s a memory I shall cherish forever and ever!_

_Hasta la vista, buddy!_

_Falco_

              “Not a single ‘I’m sorry’,” muttered Luigi.  “Not one sliver of guilt or remorse.”

              He slowly tore up the letter as Mandy and Evan watched him.

              “He ran away only to escape his problems,” said Evan.  “At least he admitted that.”

              “And I heard Sammy and Douglas saying a few things,” warned Mandy, “that Falco managed to escape.”

              “That’s no surprise,” said Luigi.  “Mandy, you were right to deliver that letter to me.  Now I know the truth about Falco.  Now I have further proof of his involvement in this evil scheme.  All that remains—is for him to answer for it.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Falco sat in his secret hiding spot, shooting text messages to all three of the Bennigan Brothers.  He knew they were desperate now.  With their links exposed, they had no choice but to pull out.  But would they heed his cries?  Or, in their haste for safety, leave him to fend for himself?  The avian wasn’t about to face Master Hand or that stupid disciplinary council.  He’d rather live the rest of his life as a rogue than have all of his sordid secrets come to light!  If push came to shove, then he’d hop into his Arwing and fly to the Big Apple himself.  But what if air patrol was waiting for him?  Falco felt the walls closing in and didn’t know what to do.  On the outs with Star Fox, skipping out on the disciplinary council and with both Master Hand and Luigi on his tail, the Blaster on his belt started to look really—friendly.

              But as easy as it was, Falco wasn’t about to take the coward’s way out.  He was going to reach out to the Bennigan Brothers and reach safety if it killed him!

              “Falco…”

              It was a voice.

              Falco whipped his head around.  “Who’s there?”

              “F—Falco…”

              The voice sounded so sad and so—fragile—as if it would break if Falco touched it with the tip of his wing.  Cautiously, Falco ventured out of his hiding place—and he saw him.

              Luigi, the friend he’d betrayed, sitting there with his knees slightly drawn up.  Face wet and swollen.  Eyes red-rimmed.  Vulnerable.  Raw.  Broken.

              “Luigi…?” rasped out Falco.

              “Falco—why…?”  Luigi sobbed.  “You were such a nice bird…”  He lowered his head and shook with sobs.

              The avian’s beak went dry.  “I—I don’t know what to say…”

              “Why don’t you take responsibility for your actions?” challenged Luigi.  “Why don’t you go to Master Hand and give yourself up?”

              “My reputation’s already ruined!  The Lylat Disciplinary Council is out to roast me!  Or did Fox not tell you that?”

              “He trusted you, and so did I!” wailed Luigi, fresh tears pouring down his face.  “Why did you throw it all away and team up with my tormentors to unjustly nerf me?!  What were you trying to do—prove to your team how much clout you had?!”

              “I wasn’t trying to prove anything!  I was just…”  Falco’s voice faltered.  “I was just…”

              “…angry because I had an advantage over you.  Is that what it was?” Luigi demanded of the avian, sniffling.

              Falco hung his head in shame.  “Y-yes.  My jealousy drove me to the point that I ignored what it was turning me into.”

              Luigi let out a wracking sob.  “Falco…”

              “I’m s-sorry, L.”  Disarmed at the sight of the weeping plumber, Falco walked over to him and draped a wing over his shoulders.  “I’m really sorry…”

              To his surprise, Luigi accepted and returned the embrace, sobbing into Falco’s chest.

              “L—it’s okay.  Don’t cry.  I promise never to act like that again.”

              He held Luigi until the violent sobs subsided.  Slowly, Luigi lifted his head, and the sight of his stormy, tearstained face struck the avian like a physical blow.  It was his turn to start sobbing uncontrollably.

              “Darn it, L!  Darn it!  You made me do that!  You made me!”

              Luigi just held him.  “I know.”

              “I wish I had a second chance.  God, I wish I had a second chance.”

              “I know.  Just let it out.  Let it out.”

              Luigi cried the last of his tears and then drew shaky, deep breaths, wiping his face with his sleeve.  He heard Falco start to calm down, as well, and gently ruffled the crown of feathers on his head.  “Look at me, Falco,” he said softly.  “Look at me.”

              Tentatively, Falco straightened so that he was staring into Luigi’s blue eyes.

              “Now,” Luigi said calmly.  “Tell me again.  Tell me again that you’re sorry.”

              “I’m sorry, Luigi,” hiccupped Falco.

              “And just how sorry are you, Falco?”  Gloved fingers entangled in Falco’s feathers.

              “V-very, v-very, s-sorry.”

              Falco winced as the grip on his feathers began to tighten.  “W-what are you doing?”

              “And exactly what are you sorry for, Falco?”  Luigi’s voice was darkening, yet still calm.  “I want you to look me in the eye and tell me what you’re sorry for.”

              “I—I’m sorry for—for—ha-having your—d-d-down throw—n-n-ner-nerfed…”

              There was a sudden tearing sound, and blazing, stinging pain enveloped Falco’s side.  The avian screamed as he tried to draw away.

              “That’s just not good enough, Falco!” Luigi screamed in righteous fury as he held up a fistful of his ex-friend’s feathers.  “Do you think ‘sorry’ will un-nerf my down throw?!  Will it explain that sorry excuse of a letter you wrote to me?!”

              “What letter?” gasped Falco.

              Luigi shoved a piece of paper into his face.  “This one!  One of my friends gave it to me.  I was expecting an apology or something, but what did I get instead?  A page and a half of excuses and gloating!”

              “Don’t try to turn this into some sort of backstabbing issue!” Falco said hotly.  “Don’t try to make it sound like you were the victim!  You know what, Luigi?!  Those stupid [ _bleep_ ]-ing combos were pushing me and pushing me, and I was tired of them!”

              “Oh, so it’s my fault?!  It’s my fault that you couldn’t control yourself and went marching off to those people?!”

              “YES!  YES, IT IS!”

              Luigi shouted in anger, threw Falco to the ground and then proceeded to tear out more feathers by the handful.  The cobalt-colored feathers serenely drifted into the air and floated away, a contrast to Luigi’s state of mind as he continued to exact his vengeance.  Falco yelled and squirmed and kicked and did anything to escape, but he was dealing with a man who could break bricks with his fist.  There were patches of salmon-pink forming all over his body as Luigi continued to rip and pluck away.  Finally, the man in blue had stripped the avian of the majority of his feathers, leaving him nearly bald and bleeding.

              “We did so many things together!”  Luigi choked back tears as he slammed his fist into Falco’s beak.  “So many Team Battles!”  He was punching him over and over now.  “Was our friendship a lie?!  Was it?!”

              The beak cracked, but still Luigi kept going, dark blood spurting into the air and the beak parts actually separating from Falco’s face.  It reminded him of his last battle with another backstabbing bird—DDD.  He shoved the memory away, pounding and hammering until both of Falco’s eyes were swollen shut and there was a pool of blood where his beak once was.  Luigi knelt astride him, crying, trying to wrap his head around the fact that Falco had just blamed him for his betrayal.  Then, he pounced on the wings, twisting, wrenching, bending and squeezing until they were as broken as broken could be.

              “Now,” he spat as he straddled Falco.  “Are you really sorry for what you did?”

              Defiantly, Falco spouted a mouthful of blood into Luigi’s face.

              “I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” Luigi snapped.  “You’re just sorry you got caught, aren’t you?”

              “Yes,” hissed Falco.

              “Yeah.  That’s what I thought.”  Fire engulfed Luigi’s hands as he sent his green flames onto the featherless flesh, Falco unsuccessfully trying to move away from the onslaught.  When Luigi was done searing and burning, he pulled out a bottle of moderately concentrated HCl solution and poured it all over Falco’s body before smashing the bottle over his chest, shards flying everywhere.

              Delicately, Luigi fetched every last bottle fragment.  “What is it with me and people wanting to pretend to like me?” he asked as he methodically dragged the smaller fragments down the mangled wings.  “Why do they want to screw me over and then throw me to the wolves?”  He took the middle-sized fragments and plunged them into the betrayer’s stomach, twisting them and then dragging them down to the thighs.  “I half-expected Fox to pull something like this, but you?  I’m sick to my stomach just thinking about it.”  Finally, he attacked the chest and face with the large fragments, finding places to stick each shard until there was no place where the backstabbing bird wasn’t bleeding or in pain.

              “You want to know a secret about my down throw combos?” Luigi asked as he kicked Falco a few times in a sensitive region.  “Personally, I preferred my f-air.”

              “Yeah, well I didn’t think your combo game was fair,” Falco said weakly.

              “Neither was the way you handled it, so I guess that makes us even!” barked Luigi, seizing two more middle-sized glass shards and jamming them into his former friend’s eyes.  The last thing Falco saw before his sight was stolen from him was the rage-distorted face of the man he threw under the bus.

              Coming upon one last shard, Luigi crushed it into granules beneath his boot before scooping up the glittering pieces and stomping toward the avian.

              Then, he crouched beside Falco, his mouth to his ear.  “Open wide now,” he whispered fiercely.

              “No!  Oh, no!  Please!”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Later that morning, Samus and Falcon approached Master Hand, fighting to keep the smirks off their faces.

              “Sir,” said Samus.

              “Morning, Sammy.  Morning, Douglas,” said Master Hand.

              “We found Falco, Master Hand,” said Douglas.

              Master perked up.  “Really?  How come I don’t see him here?”

              “Because he’s pretty much—cooked,” shrugged Samus.

              “One might say that he was—shattered like glass,” added Douglas.

              Master sighed heavily.  “I knew it.  I knew it, I knew it, I knew it.  Did you clean him up?”

              “Yes, we did,” said Samus.  “What now, Master Hand?”

              “I just hope that it’s the end of this for now,” said Master.  “You are dismissed.”

              No sooner had they left did the phone ring.

              “Hello?”

              “Master Hand, you’re not gonna believe what your brother has done!” Mario’s angry voice came from the other end.

              “What’s this about?” Master asked urgently.

              “‘This’ is a shameless injustice against Princess Peach!”

             

             

 

 

             

             

             

             

             

 

 

             

             

             

 

 

 

 

 

                


 

             


	59. His Negotiation

               “I can’t believe this!” cried Master Hand.

              He, Master Core and Mario sat in the big office, reeling from the bombshell dropped on them.  Crazy Hand had sneaked in a secret update patch, applying heavy nerfs to Princess Peach!  The patch swiftly got the green light and would go into effect on September 30 at 6:12 a.m.  As if Luigi’s situation wasn’t enough to deal with!

              “They actually let him do this, without our knowledge or approval?” roared Master Core.

              “Even when he’s already grounded,” added Master.

              “What’s gotten into him?” demanded Mario.  “First my bro and now my Princess!  Why?”

              “By my reckoning, he’s still punishing her for her hissy fit that night,” said MC.

              “After she apologized?  That vindictive son of a…”

              “Mario, calm down,” said Master.  “I’ll call them and see if they’ll cancel the nerf.  But—how did you find out?”

              “From the victim herself.  Luigi found out that Falco tried to escape again and took off.  I was about to go after him when I came across Peach.  She was a mess!  So, naturally, I went to comfort her and find out what was going on, and that was when—she told me.”  Mario sighed heavily.  “I mean—she’s already been suspended.  Wasn’t that enough?!”

              “Her suspension remains in effect, if that’s what you’re getting at,” warned Master, “but my dad and I will have this straightened out as promptly as possible.”

              “Crazy’s sneaky behavior is regrettable,” conceded MC, “but so was Peach’s decision to react as she had.”

              “To defend Luigi—to preserve his honor,” Mario said as evenly as he could.  “As his brother, I would’ve done the same.”

              “We’ll take that as a confession,” said Master.  “Perhaps I should discipline you, too, for making a threat.”

              “Try me, Master Hand.  You can’t stop me from protecting my loved ones.”

              Mario took a deep breath and counted to ten before continuing.

              “It’s not like I’m condoning what she did.  There were other ways to handle this.  But—she was at the end of her rope.  She saw Crazy snuggling with that teddy bear while Luigi was tossing and turning in his bed and eventually slipping off to the Training Area or wherever he likes to go to get his frustration out and just—lost it.”

              “Sounds like you’re excusing her to me,” shrugged Master.

              “I’m not going to argue with you about this,” Mario said in a warning tone.

              “Then stop talking about it.”

              “‘It’ is the reason why your brother is doing this,” Mario reminded Master, with heat.

              “Boys,” warned MC.  “Crazy owes the three of us an explanation for his actions, and I’m sure he’ll provide one.  But if we’re going to keep arguing about this…”

              “What?  He started it,” sniffed Master.

              “And I’m ending it,” MC said evenly.  “Peach remains suspended, and that’s final, Mario.  I’m sorry Crazy pulled this on her, but she still needs to answer for her actions.”

              “Well, you’re the boss,” Mario said pointedly.  He glanced at his watch.  “Won’t you look at that?  My next match is coming up.  Gotta run.”

              He rose from his seat and started out, but not before leaning into Master’s ear and whispering, “ _Questa conversazione non è finita_.”

              “Oh, yes it is,” MC broke in.  “Off you go.”

              Flushing over being caught, Mario made a hasty exit.

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              “Psst!  L!”

              Luigi, seated in “the spot” (first row, middle seat) as Mario and Sonic battled it out in the Golden Plains, turned slightly so that he was looking at Ness.  “Yeah?”

              “Didja hear?”

              “Hear what?”

              “It’s Peach,” hissed Ness.  “She’s getting nerfed.  Which explains...” He jerked his head in the direction of the aggressive battle.

              “I saw nothing about an upcoming patch,” shrugged Luigi.

              “That’s because it’s secret.  And Master Hand didn’t authorize it.”

              “Well—who did?”

              Ness paused for dramatic effect and then revealed.  “Crazy Hand.”

              Luigi blinked, his face expressionless.  He already knew the motive behind this stunt.

              “And you know what else?  Master and MC found out, too—but they’re still keeping her suspended.  Mario kinda got into it with them over that.  They said that Peach still needs to accept responsibility for her actions despite the unjustness of Crazy’s.”

              Luigi was silent for a moment.  Then he said, “Don’t do anything until after I’ve spoken to Mario.”

              “You got it.”

              Luigi smiled before turning back to watch his brother.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              After beating Sonic and cooling off in the shower, Mario went straight to his room, locked his door and began punching numbers into his phone.

              The voice answered on the first ring.  “Hello?”

              “Hey, Luigi!  I guess you’ve heard?”  He said in his mother tongue.

              “Indeed,” Luigi quickly responded in the same language, “but if I confront him, then he’ll play the victim and have me suspended, too!”

              “Bro, let _me_ handle that situation.  You already have the conspirators against you and Daisy to deal with.  In three hours, you will recieve a first-class ticket for a flight to New York City which departs tomorrow afternoon at 5:45.  All of your matches should by over by then.  And if anyone should ask, just tell them that you need to take a few weeks’ leave to clear your mind.  Once the Peach situation is resolved, I’ll tell them the truth myself.”

              “Th-thanks, Mario.  But really, you didn’t have to.”

              “No matter what I’m going through, I’ll always put you first.  It’s what brothers do.”

              “Well, I’m touched.  When I get back, I’m gonna do something nice for you in return, and that’s not subject to negotiation.”

              “We’ll get through this together, Luigi.  But for now, we both have work to do.  I love you, L.”

              “You too, Mario.”

              Immediately after he hung up, Mario dialed another number.

              “Yello?”

              “Hey, Toadette.  It’s-a me, Mario.”

              “Hey, Mario.”

              “Listen—Peach is getting nerfed.  I’m gonna need you to get as many people as you can in the know.  Can I count on you?”

              “I won’t let you down, Mario!”

              “Oh, and one more thing.  Phones only.  No social media yet.”

              “You got it!”

              “Thanks.  Bye.”

              Toadette wasted no time phoning everyone on her contacts list, spreading the news of Peach’s nerf to the other Toads.  These Toads, in turn, called their friends and relatives, who called their friends and relatives, and so on and so forth.  Even the Toad serving as Peach’s neutral B move got in on the action by calling Toadsworth and everyone in the Princess’s court.  And as word spread from Toad to Toad, Mario placed calls to even more people, from Bombette to Princess Eclair, who immediately called everyone in their own circles.  The telephone tree sprouted through the hours.

              As Luigi prepared for his trip, he gave Daisy a buzz.  “Daisy, I hate to bring more bad news, but Peach is getting nerfed,” he said.

              “Say WHAT?” balked Daisy.

              “I’m leaving on some top-secret business,” said Luigi.  “Are you doing anything?  Can I stop by?”

              “Wanna visit on your way to your destination?”

              “I have a 5:45 plane to catch.”

              “Fear not.  One of my attendants will make sure you get there on time.  So, exactly what about Peach are they nerfing?”

              “I don’t know yet, but I know Mario will find out.  Just like I would if someone sprang anything like that on you.”

              “Keep me posted.”

              “Will do.  See you tomorrow.  And—don’t tell your subjects yet.”

              “O—kay.”

              “I just don’t want to start another conflagration before putting the current one out.”

              “I get it.”

              “Take care, Daisy.”

              Luigi hung up and continued packing his things.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              “Oh, God!  Mario— _Mario—MARIO!_ ” Peach shrieked as she felt herself reaching the critical moment of bliss for the sixth time and counting.  Her hero was buried to the hilt in her, thrusting esctatically, the images of Crazy Hand smugly manipulating the suits at Nintendo to sign off on an unauthorized patch flashing in his head.  When his remaining bouts failed to get it out, he turned to his Princess, and they had a long chat about this turn of events over a few frosted glasses of “kicked up” iced tea.  After that, they realized that they just—wanted each other, and so here they were, on Peach’s soft bed, making fireworks and rocking worlds.

              “WAAAAAAAAAAAAA-HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” shouted Mario as he rocketed across the finish line, shuddering violently as he spurted into his Peach.

              “Oh, man!  Oh—wow!”  Pleasure canonballed into the Princess, her body quivering right along with his, as they stole searing kisses and pulled their naked bodies closer together.

              “ _Ti amo_ , Peachy!  I’ll always be there for you!” vowed Mario, thumbing her buds before licking them, followed by the rest of her domes.  Her hair was a golden mess and it got in her sweaty face, but all she could think about was Crazy Hand and how he was trying to destroy her, using her anger at him to shake up the sack with Mario.

              “Crazy Hand—he’ll never tear us apart, period!” Mario went on, once again moving inside of her.  “I love you always, until both our games are over!”

              “Oh, Mario!  I love you, too!” replied Peach as he sped up, fondling her domes and then her stomach before commencing to rub her down there, even though he had his shroom in her Warp Pipe.  “Oh, Stars, yes!  Yes!”

              As big finish number seven rolled around the corner, Peach was so lost in Mario that she could get kidnapped right now and wouldn’t care.  Her eyes were squeezed shut as she screamed quite undignified vocabulary, her body was splendidly squished against her hero’s and she was sweating lakes, some of it _his_ sweat.  “Feels so good,” she said in a tiny voice as the little Jumpman hit all of the right “?” blocks down there in all of the right places, yielding coins and all sorts of goodies as he swelled and thickened.  He was all she needed right now!

              “I love you so much!” she squealed.  She couldn’t take it anymore, and her peach juice squirted everywhere and all over Mario.  Her back arched as she squirted torrents; her hips still moved and swiveled with his.  “Ohhh Mario...”

              Shakily, she brushed her hair out of her face and smiled seductively at her still pistoning love, driving into her with everything he had while continuing to rub her and re-circulate her electric pleasure.  Somewhere between her eighth and ninth explosions, he emptied lakes into her with a cry of “Here we go!”  A few more strokes of his thumb was all it took to get her going again.

              He kept her squirting and shuddering and sighing, changing up his rhythm and the positions of his fingers, getting more of that tension out before it drove him to destruction, plunging and emptying again and again until he was about to wear himself out.  Still wired, he used his fingers exclusively, even introducing his other hand, before bringing on a grand finale with his tongue and licking it all away, all the way up her body and inadvertently squeezing some leftover alfredo sauce from his twitching linguine onto her navel.  She found it unimaginably tasty.

              They cuddled, kissing and whispering sweet nothings, Peach eventually falling asleep but Mario remaining awake and holding her in his arms.  She and Luigi were his entire life, and no-one, not even a tournament’s assistant master of ceremonies, was going to take swings at them as long as he had his lives!  He’d tried to hold his temper for their sake, being the unofficial spokesperson of Smash and Nintendo’s mascot, but he couldn’t get it out of his head.  What Crazy Hand had said to his brother and now did to Peach—for the life of him, it wouldn’t stop parading in his mind!  His soul screamed for justice!  He’d accept his punishment gladly, for if he fell from grace, then it was for the woman he loved!  Tenderly, Mario left lingering kisses all over his sleeping beauty’s body and then rolled out of the bed to attend to some _business_ —

              Only for Peach’s arms to wrap around him and drag him back.

              Maybe later, then—

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Luigi was all packed for his trip tomorrow.  Twice, he rehearsed what he was going to tell Master Hand before he took off.  Which was partially true.  Coming home only to find some betrayers on his home turf hadn’t been a pleasing experience.  Perhaps catching the rest of these conspirators would give him the closure he desperately sought.

              He didn’t bother changing into his pajamas.  He wasn’t about to go to bed, anyway.  He slipped out of his room, trekked to the kitchen and grabbed a big bottle of Gatorade.  On his way to the Training Room, he passed by Crazy Hand’s office.  The sounds of typing and giggling issued from outside the door.  Luigi clenched his fists, very much wanting to storm in there, bawl him out and perhaps do some more, but if Master found out, then he’d also find out his true reason for leaving tomorrow.  He closed his eyes till his breathing evened out and then continued the rest of the way to the Training Room without incident.

              He put on a CD at random and then attacked the nearest Sandbag without preamble, imagining the white tarp as the white glove encasing the Hand of Destruction, caving beneath his blows, buckling as his Green Missile plowed into it—

              Crazy Hand had better start to pray.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              The next morning, Luigi did a final check to see that he had everything and rehearsed his speech for Master Hand again, this time role-playing with a few friends and Miis for some feedback.  Once he was sure he was ready, he trekked to the office to get that talk out of the way.

              He gained entry with a polite, crisp knock on the door and then stood before the giant glove, face solemn, clothes recently pressed.  Green overalls, yellow shirt.  Master Hand observed him, as if trying to unravel his mysteries.

              “Good morning, Luigi,” he said finally.

              “Good morning, Master Hand?”

              “Is there—something on your mind?”

              Luigi nodded.  “I need to take another break.”

              Master cocked his head.  “And why is that, Luigi?”

              “I came back trying to put the stuff in Vegas behind me, only to be greeted with more turmoil,” said Luigi, just like he practiced.  “I was failed by the justice system, yelled at by your brother, insulted by a so-called friend and betrayed by him and another.  After all of that—I just need to get away.”

              Master nodded slowly.  “I understand.  You may go after your last match of the day.”  He smiled.  “And thank you for telling me in advance before taking off.”

              “I could never do that to you again,” said Luigi.  “Perhaps to Crazy, but never to you.”

              He turned on his heel and exited the office, once again a man on a mission—

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              “Mario, for Farore’s sake, calm down,” Link was saying as the red-capped hero steamrolled toward Crazy’s office.  “You can’t go in there.”

              “Says who?” snapped Mario without breaking stride.  He reached the end of the corridor and was about to turn when Link pounced, physically restraining him.

              “You’re acting like a vigilante!” he protested as he wrestled with the plumber.

              “Link, let me go!” barked Mario.  “Let me go!”

              “I’m not gonna let you do it!” warned Link.

              “Well, this is a sight to see early in the morning,” said Rosalina as she came upon the scene, arm-in-arm with Corrine.  “May I ask what’s going on?”

              “Rosa, how long do you think Crazy Hand was planning to spring this on Peach?” asked Mario.

              “It was a plot he dusted off the shelf and revised,” Rosa grimly explained.  “The intended target was—well...”

              “You mean—he was in on Project Nerf, too?” gasped Mario.

              “Orignally, yes.  After Luigi and Stuart fought and the former was placed on probation, he and Master Hand started arguing about it, and it got violent.”

              “Luigi cursed and threw some things.  That’s about it,” said Mario.

              “That’s the official story.  What you don’t know is that afterward, Master went to Luigi’s room.  I don’t know if he was trying to resolve the conflict peacefully, but as soon as he got to the door, it became a tongue-lashing over his expensive vase and the other things he used as projectiles.  I mean, he was really letting the poor guy have it and saying some rotten things.  But Luigi didn’t take kindly to being spoken to like that and gave it right back to him.  It got ugly—quickly.”

              “What did that glove do to my baby brother?!” seethed Mario.

              “Nothing, because he caught himself in time.”

              “What do you mean?”

              “Things devolved into a full-blown physical tussle.  During it, Master nearly caused serious harm to your brother.  But he pulled himself together before he could.  Then, Luigi calmed down some, told Master to get out of his room and then went to the Training Room to let out the rest of his emotions.”

              “So that’s why Master started ranting about him,” gasped Mario.

              “And Crazy was the catalyst.  Though Master was remorseful over both saying those words and almost hurting Luigi, the rant put—ideas—in Crazy’s head.  Not to kick your brother out—but to cripple him in the tournaments, so to speak.”

              “Even after Master and Luigi made up?”

              Rosalina nodded.  “However, at the last minute, Crazy chickened out.  The idea remained deep in the recesses of his scheming brain—until now.  Peach’s hissy-fit was the perfect excuse to resurrect and re-vamp it.”

              “How do you know of this?” asked Link.

              “I rule the entire galaxy.  I know everything.”

              Mario pulled himself free of Link’s grip.  “I’m going,” he sharply announced, wearing a look daring anyone in the vincinity to try and stop him.  He turned and disappeared down the hall.

              “Rosa, you gotta get Peach and L over here now,” Link stated urgently.  “He’s making a grave mistake!”

              But even as he said those words, Mario had reached Crazy’s office.  Two burly Miis stood guard, arms folded.

              “Hey!  Where do you think you’re going, Jumpman?” demanded the one on the left.

              Mario responded with a one-man demonstration of his fighting abilities which left both guards on the floor, bruised, bleeding, burned and barely conscious.  He yanked open the door and marched inside.

              Crazy was waiting for him, watching TV.  “Hiya, Mario.  Care for a drink?” he asked.  “You sure could use one.”

              “You, sir, are truly the Hand of Destruction,” began Mario, his voice low and calm.  “I was right to be wary of you.  I always knew you were unpredictable.”  An edge came to his voice.  “But now I realize that you’re a vindictive, vengeful demi-god.”

              “Mario, my bro and I gave you a little bit of clout because of your status as a mascot,” said Crazy, “but this tone you’re using...”

              “Tone?  What tone?  Who gives a [ _bleep_ ] about my tone?” Mario asked menacingly.  “Who the [ _bleep_ ] do you think you are, the Tonemaster of Super Smash Brothers?”  He breathed heavily.  “I’m only asking you this once, so you’d better think really hard.  Why did you nerf Princess Peach behind our backs?”

              Crazy Hand floated toward him.  “You should be thanking me, because I was doing her a favor,” he said.

              “Applying some random nerf to her—a favor.  She was _crying_ when she found out about it.  You—you can’t be still angry at her over that incident, can you?”

              “Mario, I know you’re in denial, but your Princess has some serious issues that she needs to work out,” snapped Crazy.  “This nerf will be a lesson to her to think before she acts.”

              “She said she was sorry!” Mario objected pleadingly.

              Crazy rolled his eyes.  “It’s time we all paid for our mistakes.”

              “She already is paying for her mistake— _with her suspension_!” Mario stated hotly.  “She promised never to lose her temper like that again!  Why not let her move on from it?”

              “Did Peach ask you to come here?” asked Crazy.  “I must say, that’s very romantic.”

              “And I must say, I never thought you’d have it in you,” Mario shot back.  “Rinsing off an old scheme targeting my baby bro to use against Peach.  Oh, yeah—I know all about that.  And the fact that your brother came within a hair’s breadth of doing something he’d regret for the rest of his life.  And the fact that you saw the Stuart Bennigan fuss as an excuse to ‘teach Luigi a lesson’.”

              “You know what, Mario?  I get it.  You love this woman.  But you’ve got to stop for a minute and look at this from my angle.  For God’s sake, don’t do anything you can’t reverse!”

              “You’ve taken the concept of nerfing, you’ve made it a loaded weapon, and now you pointed it at _mia Princesa_!” accused Mario.  “That is _sick_!”

              “Well, now I know where she picked up those Vibes of hers,” snickered Crazy.

              “Crazy—do you care?” Mario questioned, softening his voice.  “Do you feel any responsibility for what happened to Peach?”

              “It all goes back to me losing it on your brother, isn’t it?  Well, excuse me for crushing his little feels to bits!  He _made_ me say those things to him!  He has a way of pushing people’s buttons!  No wonder an entire group is dedicated to hating on them!”

              Mario just stood there, shell-shocked, tears rolling down his face.  “You—you...”

              “And did I plot to mess around with Luigi’s stats?  You’re darn right I did.  He deserved to be taken down a notch, and we both know it.”  Crazy turned away from Mario.  “I have to get back to work now.  Good talk.”

              _Walk away.  Just walk away.  He’s not worth it—_

              Mario agreed with his mind and was about to clear out of there when Crazy just _had_ to open his big mouth.  “Y’know—you and Peach—you’re made for each other.  Two spoiled, bratty mortals with serious anger problems.  Well, Luigi had to get it from _someone_!”

              _Oh, HELL no—_

              In seconds, Mario had whirled and slammed a fiery fist into Crazy, knocking the glove backwards.  He’d barely recovered when Jumpman jumped him and proceeded to pepper him with more fiery punches, his wounded pride and sense of honor and brotherly devotion rearing its ugly head.  “You scoundrel!  I’ll show you a temper!” he bellowed at Crazy as he continued to pound him like a POW block.

              Another burly Mii ran into the room and sounded an alarm.  Within minutes, the place was swarming with Mii Brawlers, trying to pry Mario off of Crazy.  The plumber simply shook them off or threw elbows at them and kept going at the Hand of Destruction.  The desperate pleadings of his conscience were swept away; the rest of him was on a coffee break.  More Miis piled on the little man, but it was like trying to heave a boulder.  They began throwing Freezies and Pitfalls at him to temporarily incapacitate him.  But the Freezies evaporated upon contact as a fiery aura encircled his body, and the Pitfalls bounced harmlessly from him.  Finally, one of the Miis had enough and pounced in Mario—with a Taser!

              “No!” shouted his comrades, but it was too late.  Mario began jolting and screaming in pain as thousands of volts of electricity poured into his body.  Grinning, the Mii kept the Taser against the side of Mario’s neck until the hero in red went limp.

              “Look at Nintendo’s mascot now!” jeered the Mii as he dropped the barely conscious man to the floor.

              “That’ll show him!  Get him out of here!  And step lively before _he_ sees!” ordered Crazy, smirking at the subdued plumber.  “Not so tough now, are you Mario?”

              He laughed wickedly as the Miis hustled Mario off to the infirmary.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              “What were you thinking, M?” gasped Master Hand as he sat beside the recovering Jumpman.

              “I’m sorry.  I just—lost it,” Mario said through tears.  “I’ll never forget the look of pain on Peach’s face as long as I live.  Now I know why Luigi reacted as he did to Daisy’s snub.  I—I just wanted to talk to him!  I wanted to hear the reason from him!  I wanted closure!  But he had to keep running his mouth!”  He buried his face in his hands. 

              “How you and Luigi defend your Princesses is admirable,” conceded Master, “but it still doesn’t excuse blowing your top.  You could’ve used your words.”

              “I tried, Master Hand!  Honest to God, I tried!  But his smug face and the tears in Peach’s eyes—punish me however you wish, but at least my conscience is clear!”

              “You will recieve the same punishment as Peach, but I’ll arrange it so that your suspensions end on the same day.  And between the two of us,” He dropped his voice, “I’ll probably take good behavior into consideration for you both.”

              “You mean—you’ll lift it early?”

              “Yeah.  I’m letting go of the leash a bit with this.  Please, let it not be in vain.”

              Mario drew a shaky breath.  “Okay.”

              “And don’t worry.  I’ll see what I can do with that nerf.”

              Mario smiled.  “Thanks, MH.  I’m sorry I flew off the handle.”

              “Right words, wrong glove,” said Master, ruffling Mario’s hair before taking his leave.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              The rest of the day passed without incident, not counting Luigi discovering the truth behind Mario’s trip to the hospital.  He used his scheduled bouts to get out the anger toward Crazy Hand and the last of his nervous energy.  After his last one, he took a long shower, changed into travel-worthy attire, did a final check of everything and visited his brother and his friends to say goodbye-for-now.  Following a bittersweet exchange with Master and an icy parting with Crazy, Luigi hopped down a Warp Pipe to Sarasaland, where he shared a sultry late afternoon with Daisy.  As promised, one of her attendants transported him and his luggage to the airport.  Five minute before his flight was announced, the Smashers gathered in the terminal to see him off.  Douglas and Samus even helped him with his luggage.

              “Promise to come backs safely,” said Peach.

              “I will,” Luigi reassured her.  “Good luck.”

              “You too, L.”

              One by one, Luigi hugged all of his friends before turning and making his way aboard the plane.  They watched as it taxied down the runway and then zoomed gracefully into the sky, soon becoming like a speck of stardust in a sea of light blue.

              “Be safe, Luigi...”

 


	60. Interlude: Diary of a Big Bro

**30 September 2015**

**Dear Diary,**

**Today, September 30, 2015—a date which will live in infamy—my baby brother’s combo game, viability and playstyle were suddenly, unjustly and deliberately attacked by a team of game developers and updaters led by our supposed lord and savior, Daddy Sakurai.**

**It was at a time when Luigi was wholly at peace with himself, with his past, with his recurring status as Player Two and willing to forgive his transgressors.  It was at a time where he could breathe a little easier and enjoy material success as a highly-mained Smasher.**

**Indeed, in the days before this proverbial bomb was dropped, rumblings of patch 1.1.1 appeared on Nintendo’s official site as well as the tournament’s official site and the likes of Twitter, Facebook and Miiverse.  While they foretold of glorious additions, from the Super Mario Maker stage to some brand-new music tracks, there was no threat of drastic action against my little brother.**

**Do I think it’s a coincidence that the axe falling upon Luigi’s down throw occurred after a month or so of complaints piling against it?  No.  Judging by the gratuitous occurrences of saltiness, rambling and carrying on about my supposedly broken bro, I have reason to believe that the nerf was planned a long time ago.  In the meantime, we all were deceived with fake smiles and phony reassurances that all was quiet on the home front.**

**Patch 1.1.1, currently being decried as the Triple One Massacre, has caused severe damage to Luigi’s combo game.  I regret to add that many of his guaranteed combos have been lost.  In addition, Smashers once overpowered by him, accompanied by heartless cyberbullies, are now snarling after him like a pack of ravening wolves.**

**This morning, at 6:12 a.m. Pacific Daylight Time, _mio fratellino_ crumpled to his knees upon receiving written confirmation of this pointless injustice committed against him.**

**This morning, a perfectly fine character had his piece of mind once again snatched away.**

**This morning, the haters once again had another senseless reason to hate Luigi.**

**This morning, the sharks and hounds smelled blood and pounced on my long-suffering sibling.**

**This morning, they got him where it hurts the most.**

**And this morning, Luigi was standing in the wreckage they left in their wake.**

**These vicious individuals have therefore demonstrated the lengths they will go to make Luigi miserable.  He has analyzed every page of those patch nerfs and understands the implications to his ranking and standing in Super Smash Brothers.**

**As his brother, I am obligated to help him stay afloat and to assist him as he rebuilds his combo potential.  I will defend him from the onslaught mercilessly charging at him.**

**Due to the new physics of his down throw, Luigi is back at square one, relying on the other, more positive changes applied to him and the characteristics of other Smashers to assemble brand new combos from the rubble of the old ones.  And believe me when I say I know he can do it.**

**His scheming, manipulative enemies tried to cut him down.  They failed.**

**With confidence in my little brother’s resolve and with his unbounding determination, he will become like a Phoenix and rise again.  That is most definitely certain.**

**The Stars are coming out; I’ve got to make a wish for him!**

**Sincerely,**

**Mario**

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

**29 September 2016**

**Dear Diary,**

**It’s been almost a fortnight since he left for New York, and I miss him already.  Before the business with Crazy Hand, the two of us went head to head in a five-stock match at his mansion.  God, it had never been as intense as that—or had it?  We both knew it would be our last one for a while, so we really went out there and kicked butt.  We wound up in a Sudden Death!  Wow!  Too bad it didn’t get my mind off of Crazy—I’m still steamed after my fuse blew, seeing the tear stains on her beautiful face and her dulcet voice asking what she’d done to deserve this.**

**But I know that once Luigi lands in NYC, it will be open season for the ones who did this to him.  There aren’t a lot of places to hide in the city where he grew up.  Evan, Mandy and the rest of his friends gave him valuable information before he left.  And soon, these bullies will be wiped out—for good.**

**One year ago tonight, Luigi found out that he no longer had a competitive edge.**

**Tomorrow morning, my beautiful Princess will also awaken to find that she too has lost her competitive edge.**

**And for what?  A hissy fit?**

**But I remember what Master Hand told me.  If we manage to hang in there, he’ll end our suspensions early.  There are better ways to deal with Crazy anyway.**

**Maybe Luigi will handle him after he’s handled the other bullies.  That will be swell to see.**

**Perhaps he’ll make one of those Bennigan Brothers talk.  Crazy Hand’s hiding something, and one of us is gonna find out.**

**But after nearly a year, learning that there was an actual _conspiracy_?  It’s like ripping the scar tissue from an old wound!  When the patch notes were delivered to me, I dashed over to his room in time to see his knees give out.  But he didn’t spend the full day steeped in self-pity.  He released on the Sandbags for a few hours, the angry pounding eventually turning into imaginative combos, and then really stoked that fire when Kuro talked smack to him.  And in the following days, he proved that he was still a versatile powerhouse.  Though his stats suffered, they didn’t suffer as much as he feared.  My little brother was on fire!  Oh, yeah!**

**A year later, I’m confident that Peach will do the same.  I won’t know what Crazy nerfed until tomorrow, but like Luigi, she’s going to adapt to it.  I know she will.  When times change, we change right along with them.**

**It’s what we do.**

**I have to go to bed now; I have a big day tomorrow!**

**Sincerely,**

**Mario**


	61. Welcome to New York

              He’d spent the airplane flight sitting in his cabin, popping peanuts and other snacks into his mouth and taking a sip of his drink, crying silently as he watched puffy clouds float by.  He knew that this morning, Peach found out exactly what in her playstyle had been nerfed.  He also knew that Mario was also in trouble, simply for defending the woman he loved.  And he knew that although he’d taken vengeance against those so-called “friends” of his, their deception cut like a knife.  Cut as much as the first time he laid eyes on that nerf.

              It was a year to the day.  A year since his viability took a crushing hit.  A year since his peace of mind was once again snatched away from him.  A year since Daddy Sakurai once again sent Luigi his very own “ _[bleep_ ] you”.  A year since the hate and mockery came back with a vengeance over the strategies which no longer worked.  A year since Kuro ran his mouth and had to be corrected for it.  A year since patch 1.1.1.

              Granted, Luigi had adapted to the nerf and was still as dangerous as ever, even out-neutraling his own brother.  Yes, five patches had come around between September 30, 2015 and this year.  And yes, he had no idea the conspiracy was real until now.  But the memory of it was so sharp—the blood-red bullet point and the sneering opponents, the backlash online and the celebrations in the streets, the temptation to down a few strong ones and raise Hell, the hours pounding a Sandbag culminating in Kuro’s words to him.  The fear that he’d likely end of where he was in 1999.  Teetering on the edge of a pit of hopelessness.  It never got to the point that he was tempted to do what he caught Kirby doing in 2001, thank goodness—but it was still a pretty trying time in his life as a Smasher.  And it was a scheme months in the making—along with the plot to shun Daisy!  She was right—finding out about this was akin to ripping off a bandage or tearing open a stitched wound.  The screen images shattering his hopes, seeing the tears Daisy was fighting not to shed, how she clung to him and begged him not to stop loving her as he—consoled—her that night.  And then Evan and Mandy prying the truth from the Hands, that they knew about it since the Ballot closed.  All of those months, striving to put it behind him, and now he found out that Daisy’s loss had been deliberate.  Oh, he’d suspected something, but to see it in front of him was worse than discovering the Miiverse hate, the plushie burnings—and even the business with Spike and his friends!  A line had been crossed, and now—none of them were safe from the man in green!

              The pilot’s gentle voice came over the P.A, warning of the final approach.  Wiping his tears, Luigi fastened his seatbelt and flipped up his tray.  He watched as the buildings and people below grew bigger and bigger.  He felt his stomach jolt as the plane touched down at LaGuardia Airport in New York City.  He heard the engines wind down as the aircraft slowed and taxied toward the landing dock.  And he waited until the pilot announced that the landing was successful and that it was time to deplane.

              Luigi stood and grabbed his luggage, tipped the flight attendant and carefully stepped off the plane.  Once he claimed his checked baggage, he emerged from LaGuardia into the Manhattan afternoon and hailed a cab.

              Ah, yes.  The obnoxious, know-it-all cabbie.  Luigi was in the Big Apple, all right.

              _I’m home_ , he allowed himself to think, tuning out the cabbie’s yammering and gazing at the bustling city.  Years ago, he was helping Mario fix their sewer lines—and later the plumbing problems of houses far and wide.  He was answering the phone with a cheery, “Mario Bros. Plumbing!”  He was dressed in pink, knocking down decaying buildings with Mario’s help.  Covered in sweat and grime and sometimes other things he didn’t want to think about—but it was worth it.  He loved the energy of New York; he was proud to be a gritty Brooklynite who rolled up his sleeves and worked his way to success instead of sitting on his bum and letting someone else carry him there.  Though he’d lived in the MK for the past thirty-one years, Luigi was a New Yorker first!

              The cab reached Luigi’s destination—a post hotel—The Tower, he believed it was called.  The man in green hopped out, gave the cabbie a few dollar bills and entered the lobby, flashing his Smasher ID card to the friendly receptionist.  As it turned out, a room had already been booked for him, by a Mario “Jumpman” Mario.  Luigi smiled.  Good old Mario, always looking out for his baby bro.  A bellhop took his luggage to his room, where a bottle of champagne on ice waited for him at the minibar.  After tipping the bellhop, Luigi swiftly unpacked and then called Mario to thank him for the wonderful accommodations.  He even had free on-demand movies, Wi-Fi, HBO, Netflix, complimentary snacks, a Jacuzzi—wow, what kind of hotel was this?  And did I mention the floor-to-ceiling windows?

              “I’m home,” he murmured.  Good old New York.  Home of the Mets, Nathan’s Hot Dogs, Lady Liberty, the Empire State Building, the Chrysler Building, Times Square and Coney Island.  Home of Mario, Sr. and his bride, Sofia, who brought up their two sons to be optimistic and hardworking.  Home of Lanser Steel Works, where Luigi cut his teeth as a mechanic before moving on to the maze of sewers below the city.  Home of Mario Bros Plumbing, with clients ranging from average to tedious to downright zany—where everyone learned to “do the Mario”.

              Home.

              But now his hometown had been defiled.  By liars, schemers and bullies, all of them out for Luigi.  By serpents disguised as friends, by the troll in the suit named Daddy Sakurai.  By the slimy Bennigan Brothers.  They tried to mar his standing in the tournament and they dangled the possibility of joining Smash in front of his Flower Princess like a nice, juicy worm before yanking it away.  But like Douglas MacArthur, Luigi had returned.  No matter how long it took, he was going to rid this city— _his city_ —of this deplorable scum.  Now wasn’t the time to curl up in a ball and feel sorry for himself.  On that plane, he’d shed his tears, but now—it was time to shed blood—the blood of bullies and betrayers.

              His trip down Memory Lane over, Luigi went into the bathroom, took a quick shower and emerged in a clean pair of clothes.  He made sure he had everything he needed.  Then, he knelt before the window, removed his hat and began to pray.

              “Forgive me, Padre, for I will sin.  And I will not feel remorse for what I’m about to do.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Deep in the heart of New York City, Daddy Sakurai’s lair blended among the towering skyscrapers.  This sleek, wonderful building housed Daddy Sakurai, his right-hand man, Reggie, all of his lackeys and inside men—and the Bennigan Brothers and their followers.  Presently, it was crowded with men—the bullies from the now-vacated command centers all over the nation.  Even those based in the nation’s capital had come to seek protection.  But they knew that space was limited, so those with families and children sent them “on vacation” to exotic islands or places they’ve always wanted to go, telling fibs to them the whole way.  But even as men in black suits, white shirts and black glasses directed them to their rooms, pro-Luigi whistleblowers had their own networks up and running.  From Puerto Rico to Jamaica to Hawaii to the Bahamas to Rio de Janiero to the south of France to the Caribbean and other popular getaway spots, these Luigi fans were locating the deceived families of these bullies and gently breaking the news of their husbands’ or fathers’ or uncles’ or sons’ or cousins’ duplicity to them.  Corrupt officials behind the harassment there were quickly located and arrested, although after Spike’s downfall, it had been toned down quite a bit.  The cowards hiding in the Big Apple were instantly disinherited, disowned, divorced and stripped of their parental rights, being cited as dangers to themselves and to others.  But so concerned were they about trying to escape the clutches of the man in green that they wouldn’t learn of this—until it was too late.

              “I don’t see Falco,” Shane whispered to Vincent as they surveyed the crowd.  “I don’t see Roy, either.”

              “Did you hear?  They were intercepted,” said Vincent.

              “But what if they managed to escape?” asked Shane.

              “I keep calling, but so far—nothing.  Just a few voice messages from Falco.  I should’ve answered, but—I’m so busy with them!”  Vince indicated the “evacuees”.

              “I know,” said Shane, “but doesn’t Falco have an Arwing?”

              “Sirs,” said a voice.

              Shane and Vince turned to see a diminutive man standing there, his face grave, a piece of paper in his hand.

              “It’s about Falco and Roy, sirs,” said the man.

              Quickly, Vince grabbed the letter, and then did a double take at the man.

              “Take off that beanie,” he ordered.  “You look absolutely ridiculous.”

              The man put his hands on his hips.  “This beanie is a family heirloom!” he declared.

              “Well, it’s getting on my nerves,” growled Vince.  “I want it off your head by five o’ clock this afternoon.”

              “Fine,” huffed the man, stalking off.

              He entered an office, locked the door and dialed a number on his cell phone.

              “Hello, Kroger,” a voice said in Italian.

              “Sir,” Kroger responded in the same language.  “I take it your trip went well?”

              “Indeed it did.  I actually got in a little early.  So, what do you have for me?”

              “Those Bennigan Brothers are packing them in from miles around,” reported Kroger, making the necessary hand gestures to fool the security monitors on the ceiling.  “We’ve got men in suits and glasses helping them with their stuff.  This building doubles as a complex as well as an office.”

              “I have the floor plan in front of me right now.  Hmm.  The place shouldn’t be hard to spot.”

              “It’s a clear glass building, and your enemies are filling it to capacity, all of them on their guard.  Those men in black look dangerous, too.  You’re up against a lot here, sir.”

              “That’s why I have you.”

              “Oh, yes.  If you see anyone in a green beanie, they’re your friend, and I have assured my comrades that they will be rewarded for their services and will come to no harm.  They’ll tell you more about the layout of the place, the people to watch out for—and how to penetrate the Bennigan Bros and Daddy Sakurai.”

              “Thanks, Kroger.”

              “The main entrance is on the north side of the building, so steer clear of that.  If you want to even make it inside the building, then the west entrance is your best bet.  Only one guard is watching there.  His names Brunden.”

              “Brunden?  He just so happens to be one of the cyberbullies targeting me and Daisy!  Today is his day of reckoning.”

              “And Vince had the gall to order me to take this beanie off!  The nerve of him!” added Kroger.

              “I can’t wait to see his face when he learns that you were on my side.”

              “Me, neither.  Well, let’s get this show on the road.”

              “Oh, it’s going to be unforgettable.  I deposited the money in your bank account.  Thanks for your help, Kroger.”

              “It was a pleasure doing business with you, sir.  Call me anytime.”

              Kroger hung up, removed his beanie, stuffed it into his pocket and exited the office whistling, feeling extremely pleased with himself.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              “It is my deepest regret to inform you that our boy Roy and Falco Lombardi—didn’t make it out,” Vince announced to the crowd to aghast gasps.  “A state of emergency has now been declared.  Nobody goes in or out of this building without my say so.  All able-bodied individuals in this vicinity are now tasked with guarding our lord and savior Daddy Sakurai with their lives.  Anyone who so much as utters that plumber’s name will be condemned for treason.  That is all.”

              As soon as he left, panic erupted.  It was now their lives against Luigi’s.  They needed shelter, they needed reassurance, and they needed it now!  A man historically known as a coward was making these tough guys into cowards.  So I ask you—who were the true cowards in this situation?

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              An ordinary-looking car cruised down the street and pulled into a driveway, coming to a stop at the west entrance of Daddy Sakurai’s lair.  The lone guard sitting on the bench stretched his legs and stood, watching the car vigilantly.

              The driver’s side door opened, and out stepped a man.  Brunden, the guard, nearly stopped breathing.  He knew that cap.  He knew those overalls.  He knew that shirt.  He knew that moustache.  And he knew that face!

              “Stay calm, Brunden,” he muttered to himself as Luigi locked his car and strode determinedly toward the building.

              Brunden drew himself up and wasted no time intercepting the man in green.  “May I help you, sir?” he asked.

              “Oh!  Good afternoon,” Luigi said, calm, friendly and polite.  “I’d like to speak to Mr. Sakurai, please.  It’s very important.”

              “I’m sorry, sir, but you need an appointment to see him,” said Brunden.  “Can I take a message?”

              “Uh—sure.  It’s about the Smash Ballot last year,” Luigi said, not in the least bit flustered or angry.  “You see, I had high hopes for one of the Ballot candidates, and it saddens and hurts me to know that she didn’t make it.  She was really hoping to get in, too, so we could spend more time together.”

              “Aww, isn’t that special?” sneered Brunden as his true side came to light, “but guess what?  Daddy Sakurai rejected her, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

              “Well, you don’t have to be so rude about it,” admonished Luigi.  “I know I can’t go back and change it, but I—we—just need some closure.  We need to know why she wasn’t picked.”

              “Isn’t it obvious, L?  It’s because nobody likes her!” crowed Brunden.  “I happened to see the vote count, and the number of votes for your Daisy was pitifully low!”  He laughed sadistically.  “There’s already enough Princesses in Smash—we don’t need another one!  Spoiled brats in poufy dresses who think only of themselves—what are they doing in there, anyway?”

              “So.  That’s what you thought of my Daisy,” said Luigi.  “That’s also what you posted all over Miiverse, wasn’t it?”

              Brunden blinked.  “Wait, what?”

              “Oh, yeah, I know all about you, _Brunden_.”  The politeness was gone from Luigi’s face, an ominous note arising in his voice as he advanced on the rude guard.  “I know about how you enjoyed torturing Daisy via the Internet in your spare time.  I read every last Miiverse post you aimed at her, every humiliating and lewd comment and every threat to ‘have fun’ with her.  What makes you think she doesn’t belong in Smash?  The way she dresses?  The fact that she loves sports?  Or was it to keep me from gaining an additional protector from the likes of you?!”

              “Like I said, nobody gives a flying [ _bleep_ ] about your beloved Princess,” snapped Brunden, rolling his eyes.  “At least Rosalina’s hotter— _and_ she rules a galaxy and does other things besides play sports!”

              “You think that’s all she does?!” Luigi shot back.  “If that’s the case, then Sarasaland would be in worse shape than it is now!  There would be rioting in the streets, political unrest!  The people of Sarasaland love their princess!  You can go there and ask one of them yourself!”

              “Then they’re all stupid,” sniffed Brunden, “and you know something else?  Nobody cares about you, either!  You’re a loser!  You’re nothing!  You’re everything that’s wrong is this world!”

              “Did Daddy Sakurai tell you that, or is that your opinion?” Luigi asked tightly.

              “Excuse me?”

              “I believe you heard me quite well.  He never really cared about me, did he?  All he was seeing were dollar signs, wasn’t he?  He’s just a great big Internet troll in a suit sitting behind a desk, isn’t he?!”

              “Now wait a minute, buddy…”

              “Did he really care about the participants of these tournaments?  Did he really care about Kirby?  Or did he just care about the profits he was making off of us?!”

              “Look, Daddy Sakurai has a job to do; he has no time to care about who _you_ want to be in Smash!” Brunden retaliated.

              “Drop the act, Brunden.  I found out everything.  That he was behind my down throw nerf last year.  That he rigged the Smash Ballot so that Daisy would lose.  And I just want to know—why?  Why does he hate me?  Look, I didn’t mean to take his time trying to negotiate Daisy into Smash, if that’s what this is about!”

              “You humiliated him!  Player Two, barging into his office to tell him what to do?  Who do you think you are?”

              “Who do you think _you_ are, hiding the scum that you are behind that uniform?  Who do you think you are, making Daisy feel worthless and unwanted?  Who do you think you are—and who does he think _he_ is, living off of me like a leech!  That’s all he and his ilk have done, prey upon me—take and take and take until they can take no more!  I’m surprised they didn’t bother taking the clothes off my back!”

              “You’ve forgotten your place, and we’re gonna put you back there,” sniped Brunden.  “Now do us all a favor and calm down.”

              “You target me and Daisy online, you help your good friend Daddy Sakurai with his trolling and Ballot rigging, and you’re telling _me_ to calm down?!”

              “Yeah, I am!”

              “This isn’t something I’m gonna calm down about, Brunden!” Luigi raged.  “You and those other bullies ruined my life—and Daddy Sakurai encouraged it!”

              “Encouraged what?  He made the decision, Luigi!” cried Brunden.  “You know, he made the decision!  The issue is what’s appealing to our gamers, all right?  Now go on home and cry on your brother’s shoulder for a few hours.  I’m sure he has a hot, heaping plate of spaghetti waiting for you.”  Once again, he laughed derisively.

              That did it!  Luigi’s fist crashed hard into Brunden’s pudgy face, blood spraying everywhere.  With frightening strength and speed, Luigi shoved Brunden against the wall and began letting his brutal punches fly, not stopping until the bully’s jaw was hopelessly broken and he was blind in one eye.  He sent a kick right into his gut, folding him over, before pelting him with Smash attacks, notably his spearhand strike.  A single karate chop broke his nose.  A few more punches reverberated in his ears.  A few fireballs made quick work of his curly hair.  And then Luigi spun him around so that he was face-first against the wall before proceeding to savagely drag him along it, the roughness chewing through his flesh.  Now, Brunden’s face was badly lacerated and covered in rub burns, bleeding and nearly broken.  He heard Luigi choke back an angry sob as he sent him reeling into the corner.

              “How did it feel, writing those horrid things?” he questioned.  “You thought that you were safe, hiding in cyberspace, didn’t you?  You think those Bennigan Brothers can shield you, don’t you?  Why don’t you man up and face the consequences of your actions?”

              Deftly, Brunden drew his nightstick and swung.  Luigi ducked and retaliated with heavy body blows before his adversary calmly sent the nightstick straight into his shoulder and then into his face.  The impact could be heard for miles.

              “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do that, green turd!” snarled Brunden, enjoying the sight of the writhing, bloodied plumber before straddling his legs and attacking his upper body with his trusty weapon.  “You just made a decision that could end your life sooner than you were expecting!”

              A hook to the side of his face sent him falling over, and a leg sweep knocked him off his feet, jarring the nightstick away.  Luigi rose, his jaw clenching as his eyes fell on the nightstick.  In a single motion, he picked it up.

              “Oh, no,” gasped Brunden.  He knew he was in for it now.  Mustering every bit of strength he had, he staggered to his feet and made a run for it.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Inside his expansive office, a man in a tailored business suit sat in his swivel chair, gazing out the window.

              Autumn was fast approaching.  Leaves were turning amber as temperatures dropped.  New Yorkers were getting ready for Halloween and even the approaching holiday season.  School buses transported students off all ages back to their homes after a long day of instruction.  Nothing out of the ordinary there.

              He swiveled back around and focused on his security monitors.  All of his employees were hard at work.  Some mischievous interns pulled harmless pranks on unsuspecting supervisors—revenge for trying to intimidate them.  A lower-level executive made eyes at a gorgeous secretary.  Men in black suits and glasses escorted other men carrying suitcases through the buildings and into elevators.  Workers griped over their bosses at watercoolers or discussed their plans for Halloween.

              Just another day at the office.

              So why did the man have such a strong sense of foreboding?

              Reggie, the man, shrugged it off and turned back to the paperwork on his desk.  But just as he started perusing through it, his intercom buzzed.

              “Hello?” he answered.

              “Hi, Reggie.  It’s Brunden from security.”

              “What’s up?”

              “I—I’ve got a hysterical plumber on my hands.”

              Reggie frowned.  “I don’t remember calling a plumber,” he said.  “What’s he angry about?”

              “His girlfriend.  She was on the Smash Ballot, and she didn’t get in.”

              “Oh, boy,” Reggie facepalmed.  “It’s Luigi, isn’t it?”

              “Yes—and he knows everything!”

              Reggie was nearly as white as a Boo.  “Everything?”

              “ _Everything!_ ”

              Reggie opened his mouth to deliver a command, but stopped when faint shouts came over the intercom.  “Who’s that?” he demanded.

              “It’s him, it’s him!  Clear the area n…”

              _Thump_.

              Reggie nearly jumped out of his seat.  “Brunden?  Are you okay?  Hey, Brunden!  _Brunden?!_ ”

              “ _I NEED BACKUP OVER HERE!_ ”  Brunden screamed over the sounds of struggle.

              And then the connection went dead.

              Reggie began to tremble all over.  “My body is not ready,” he squeaked.

              Seconds after he uttered that declaration, Hell broke loose.

             

             


	62. Dies Irae

              “Folks, I’m sorry, but all of the complexes are filled,” said a man wearing a black suit and black glasses to the bustling crowd before him.  “That is it for today.  Come back tomorrow, and we’ll have rooms for the rest of you as soon as we can.”

              Groans sounded, and shoulders sagged, but the crowd obediently backed off.

              “In the meantime, how about waiting it out in one of these swanky hotels?” the man went on, distributing free hotel credits to the “refugees”.

              “Thanks, buddy,” said Eddie, a cyberbully who also frequently vandalized Daisy’s castle.

              “Yeah, it’s not all that bad,” agreed his friend, Austin.

              “Who knows?” winked the man in the suit.  “Maybe our rooms will be even better tomorrow.”

              Eddie and Austin chuckled.

              “Would you like us to shuttle you there?” asked the man.

              “Nah, we’re good,” said Joshua, a med student who delivered some cadavers from his school to a Sarasaland royal dinner.  “We have our own vehicles, right, boys?”

              “Right,” said a guy named Jackson—“Jack” to his friends—who used to work for a rival company to Mario Bros. Plumbing.  That company went under after Luigi exposed its unethical business practices, most of which had targeted him, and Jack lost his job as a result.  Swearing revenge against Luigi, he eagerly joined the cyberbullying network and had been an early champion of a scheme to sabotage Luigi’s playstyle.

              The four men, along with the rest of the overflow, took the elevator down to the ground floor and headed for their cars, where they’d drive to the hotel they’d stay at for the night.  They flashed flirty smiles to several ladies who’d decided to call it a day and clock out early.  In actuality, they were secret Luigi fans and moles who’d helped expose these wicked misdeeds, scrambling to get a front-row seat to the mayhem about to erupt.  The women were soon joined by other Luigi fans and honest employees, men and women alike, not worried in the least, for their safety and protection had been guaranteed.  A greet hat, beanie or beret was their golden ticket, quickly identifying them as supporters and sympathizers of the man in green.

              “I can’t wait to see their faces when Luigi comes,” hissed one.  “I’ll bring the popcorn!”

              “I’ll bring the candy!” another chimed in.

              “I’ll bring the hot dogs!” added a third.

              Blissfully unaware of Brunden’s panicked phone call to Reggie as Luigi bore down on him, Eddie, Austin, Jack and Josh led the others toward the exit, where valets were at work pulling their cars up so they wouldn’t have to suffer a trek through a maze of vehicles.

              “They’re really pampering us here,” murmured Josh.  “I’m kinda gonna miss this.”

              “C’mon, man,” Eddie said consolingly.  “It’s just for one day.  No sweat.  We stay at the hotel, take advantage of _their_ amenities, and then come back here first thing tomorrow morning to see if there are any openings.”

              “I hear the hotel we’re staying at serves some mean burgers and pancakes,” offered the mean-looking Francis, who once dumped a truckload of Fizzies into a swim meet Luigi competed in some years ago.

              “Mmm—burgers,” everyone else hummed as one.

              “Hey, guys,” said Kroger as he ran past them.  “You might wanna be careful out there.  There’s a rumor floating around that our plot has been betrayed.”

              “Who is this betrayer?” demanded Francis.

              “Not likely anyone among us,” Eddie assured him.  “Thanks, Kroger.”

              Kroger nodded and continued on his way, whistling.

              “Thank God, he finally ditched that beanie,” said Josh, earning a peal of laughter from the others.

              **_CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!_**

              Instinctively, the bullies hit the floor, covering their heads, as something—someone—burst their way in through the west entrance.  Chunks of plaster and rubble flew everywhere, along with a few desks and desktops too close to the area of impact.  People instantly began barking orders at subordinates as the men in black raced onto the scene.

              “What the heck was that?” muttered Eddie as he and the others got to their feet.  Something made him turn around, and his eyes widened.  “Oh, my God!”

              A gloved fist slammed into his face with a terrible _crunch_ , resulting in a splatter of blood, spit and teeth.  The assailant grabbed Eddie by his shirt collar before he could hit the ground and punched him several more times as Josh, Jack, Austin and Francis watched, frozen with terror and horror.  Then, the man in green hurled Eddie to the floor, kicked him until his ribs broke and then dragged him over to a row of computers, ramming his face into the first one he saw.

              Pandemonium exploded.

              “It’s an ambush!  Arm yourselves!” screamed Francis as he charged at the intruder, arms outstretched.  He turned just in time to sidestep, and then he grabbed the big lug, flipped him over and slammed him onto a nearby desk.  A gloved hand clamped around his windpipe, and he found himself face-to-face with a man who had put up with his feces for the last time.

              “Luigi…” he gasped.

              Luigi smiled.  “Hey, Francis.  How are things going for you after you ruined my swim meet?”

              “Luigi, I…”  But he was cut off as the plumber ripped a letter opener across his face, Francis screaming as he was slashed again and again.  When his face was nicely cut up, Luigi went for the arms and chest and torso, and when he was satisfied, he made a deep gash along the bottom of Francis’s stomach, allowing him to roll off the desk as his contents spewed out of him.

              Luigi was admiring his work when something hard slammed into him.  A golf club!  Screeching like a wild man, Austin sent the golf club flying into the plumber’s jaw, knocking him down.

              “I’ll show you, twerp!” yelled Austin as he brought the weapon down several more times.  But Luigi knocked the feet out from under the bully and fired a sharp forward smash into his chin, snapping his head back.  Jack and Josh came at him then, but Luigi moved fluidly, parrying all their attacks until he managed to take control with furious, fierce counterattacks which fractured things and drew blood.  Luigi had just knocked them away with a Cyclone when Austin grabbed his ankle and sent him toppling onto his stomach.

              The breath whooshed from the green-clad plumber as the four men ran at him, now joined by other bullies.  From all sides, he was assailed with kicks.  People grabbed the nearest melee weapon in sight and pounced on him.  They couldn’t keep him subdued for long.  Luigi grabbed one unlucky fellow’s bicep and violently wrenched it, disarming him of his weapon.  As the bully staggered back, howling, Luigi scooped up the heavy thing and turned it on him.  First on his other arm and then his legs, crumpling him, before using it to beat his head in.

              Alarms started to sound.  Urgent voices came over the PA system.  Men in black barked orders into radios and walkie-talkies as they sprinted over to take care of the intruder.

              Austin snatched his golf club back up, but Luigi evaded every swing and launched fireballs in return.  Then, he brandished the letter opener he’d pocketed and deftly dragged it up Austin’s forearm, making him drop the golf club.  Immediately, Luigi kicked it away and closed in with aggressive Smash attacks, finally sending Austin crashing through the ceiling with a Super Jump Punch.

              Scrambling up, Austin ran through the upper floor as fast as his aching body would allow.  “We’re being attacked!  We’re being attacked!” he warned.

              Back on the lower floor, Luigi picked up the golf club formerly in Austin’s possession and smiled at it before viciously swinging it into Jack’s face, shattering half of it.  He crumpled backward as Josh and some others surged forward, Luigi now wielding the golf club like a battering item.  Calmly, he spun and twirled it about his body, letting it collide with a random person.  Screams of pain began joining in with the shouts as the man in green smashed his new weapon into this bully and that bully as hard as he could.  Breaking arms, elbows and kneecaps.  Cracking jaws and shattering noses.  He used the thing to defend himself from opposing strikes as well as to attack.  Jack grabbed him from behind, but the plumber could twist around, slam the handle of his weapon against his assailant’s already-broken face and then jam it where the sun didn’t shine at least five times.  After glaring down at the writhing man, he took out his letter opener and carved a deep “L” into his chest.  Like a ninja, he threw the letter opener into surprise attackers and subdued them with the golf club as their blood gushed forth.  One good swing caught Josh on the side of the neck, and as he lay there, wheezing, Luigi stepped over to him and stroked his face comfortingly.

              “I once wanted to go to med school myself,” he said quietly.  Suddenly, anger distorted his face, and his voice quickly turned dangerous.  “You thought it was a joke, sending cadavers to an important dinner?  Grossing out my princess?  You must’ve known I was going to be in attendance that night.  If your plan was to traumatize both of us, then you succeeded.”

              He raised his golf club and lit into Josh until his skull crushed completely.

              “Who’s next?” he asked, casually twirling the golf club like a baton.

              The men in black drew their nightsticks and barreled at him.

              Luigi dropped low and attacked legs and feet with his weapon, causing them all to bend in two.  One by one, he severed their Achilles tendons with a swift swipe of the letter opener.  Roaring in agony, the men in black grabbed their hamstrings and rolled about on the ground as Luigi straightened up and stormed deeper into the headquarters, looking for the brain and nerve center—Daddy Sakurai’s office.

              “I’ve been looking for you,” growled a guard as he intercepted him, only to be impaled in the neck by a spearhand strike.

              “I’m looking for people, too,” Luigi smoothly replied, continuing on his way without even looking at the guard.

              A mousy-looking man in a green beret, sitting at a computer nonchalantly playing Call of Duty, saw Luigi approaching and surreptitiously pointed upward, signaling that Daddy Sakurai’s office, along with the Bennigan Brothers, were upstairs.  When the two made eye contact, the man mouthed “top” to the plumber.  Luigi nodded to him, thanking the Stars that Evan and Mandy had given him maps and floor plans around this place.

              The plumber now fought his way through a room full of machinery, refugees and men in black springing at him like jack-in-the-boxes.  He brought his golf club close to his body, eyes glinting, ready for action.  With cold, calculated precision, violent blows landed.  Crunching.  Crashing.  Smashing.  Cracking.  The attackers fell back, holding limbs and screaming, and Luigi made sure to send searing flames at them.  Until someone got the jump on him.

              A beefy guard attacked him from behind, tackling him to the ground, wresting the golf club away and breaking it over his knee.  Luigi rolled away from him, but another guard snatched him and hoisted him to his feet.  The beefy guard moved toward him then, using him as a punching bag.  Luigi struggled against the hold he was in, but these guards were trained in what they were doing.  He felt like his body was coming apart, but he vowed to himself that he wasn’t going to go like this.  A boot collided with the beefy guard’s lower extremities, sending him doubling over and holding himself, and an elbow cannoned into the face of the other guard.  Smoothly, Luigi kicked that guard before ramming him three times into a keyboard and garroting him with the mouse cord, stopping just before he blacked out so he could feel the letter opener slide into his ribcage and then up, and then out.  Finally, he plunged the letter opener deep into his crotch and yanked it back out, taking care of the beefy guard in the same fashion.

              He continued deeper into the maze of machinery, savoring the fear in the eyes of those who screwed over not just him but also the woman he loved.  They made sure to hide their fear by running at him, yelling at the tops of their voices.  But Luigi was a man on a mission, and after taking care of these bullies, he was going to deal with the mightiest trolls of them all!  He rained more and more devastation with his attacks, relishing each _crunch_ , _crack_ and _snap_ they elicited.  The letter opener was reserved for extreme emergencies, and he’d go for all the right veins, watching in satisfaction as blood squirted everywhere.  There were reinforcements approaching, and Luigi recognized every one of them.  They’d cyberbullied him long before the Smash Ballot business.  He also saw the ones who stormed Daisy’s castle and organized the plushie burnings he saw on those videos.  They gathered around him, cracking their knuckles and acting tough, and Luigi felt animalistic, savage excitement arise in his bloodstream.  He raised his fists and scanned each person, trying to pick the one he’d go after first.

              A hammy fist made the decision for him.

              Luigi sidestepped the blow, grabbed the attacker and shoved him against a copy machine as the rest of the mob surged toward him.  He punched the pinned man twice before turning on the onslaught, grabbing one’s arm and wrenching it out of the socket before breaking it.  He’d replaced the letter opener with a long pair of scissors and a fountain pen, keeping them tucked into the pocket of his overalls and only pulling one of them out when the need arose.  For now, he took on his opponents via hand-to-hand combat, his strikes rapid but brutal and angry.  He used his Green Missile to blow people into walls, machinery or each other.  He could end skirmishes relatively quick by crouching down and getting a misfire, knocking the wind out of them, before taking his time finishing them off.  They all stood no chance against his crushing, crippling movements, his stunning specials or his zany jumping skills.  Even if it was three against one, they couldn’t take him for long.  He’d sweep his legs about or spin around in a Cyclone attack, sending them scattering.  He was strong enough to grab 200-lb attackers and send them crashing into tables.  He was too pumped and infuriated to feel pain when some good ones were landed on him.  He was impregnable, unstoppable, ferocious.  A bullied, tormented man who decided he wasn’t gonna take anymore from these scumbags.  Hell hath no fury like a Mario Bro stomped upon, kicked around, scorned, laughed at, jeered and thrown under the bus many times over—and Daddy Sakurai, the Bennigan Brothers and their cronies were going to find out the hard way!

 **Listen up!**  
There's not a moment to spare  
It's quite a drop  
From the top  
So how are you feeling down there?  
It's a cold, cruel, harsh reality  
Caught, stuck, here with your enemies!

 **Who do you think you are?**  
Tearing us all apart  
Where did you think you could go?  
'Cause everyone already knows  
It's twenty to one  
Yeah, so you better run!

              Even now, as Luigi smashed cronies’ faces into computer screens, keyboards and modem towers, as he slammed his elbow with sheer force into faces, chest cavities, ribcages and anywhere it would hurt the most, as he left broken and bleeding bodies in his wake, he was struggling toward his eventual destination—the offices of Shane, Vincent, Manny and Daddy Sakurai on the topmost floor of the building.  His eyes searched keenly for stairwells or elevators, but so far, he could see nothing but enemies.  They came at him, at least twenty or so at a time and armed with makeshift weapons.  But his strength, doubled by his rage, was still too much.  Luigi grabbed one man and jammed his visage into a printer before turning it on, walking away as the machine ground up the man’s face.  He launched himself into another, plowing him into a copier, and then held his face in the scanner, repeatedly slamming the cover of the copier against his head.  When he was satisfied, he plunged the scissors into the back of the guy’s neck before yanking them out and allowing the man to drop to the floor.  A man tried to strangle him with a mouse cord, only to wind up with his face slammed into an ink cartridge bay, the stuff squirting out and blinding him.  Luigi pocketed the mouse cord and proceeded to slice off the man’s fingers.  Turning him over, he used his sleeve to wipe the ink from the man’s face and then slowly and methodically carved his eyeballs from his face.  While the man screamed, Luigi sliced and tore into the flanks of approaching attackers as he continued on his way.

 **You got the world on its knees**  
You're taking all that you please  
You want more! (You want more!)  
But you'll get nothing from me  
You're like the burden we bear  
You love the hate that we share  
You want more! (You want more!)  
But you'll get nothing from me  
But enemies! Enemies!

              It was the bullies’ worst nightmare come true.  They threw everything they had at Luigi, sometimes literally, but it was no use.  He had the upper hand over them all.  Slamming them onto tabletops and holding them down as he drove his fist, his scissors or his fountain pen into them.  Smashing them against printers and copy machines, sometimes repeatedly, using the apparatus as chopping blocks to mangle limbs.  Sending them crashing through cubicles and using the debris to rip into them.  Impaling them on the edges of the copy machine trays and swiftly puncturing their jugular veins with the fountain pen.  Or, he’d force their heads across the tray before goring at their faces.  Lashing out with the mouse cord he’d taken, wrapping it around necks and then releasing them at the last possible second and deciding their fates using more—creative—means.  Quite literally putting them through shredders, at one point forcing tongues in first.  “Since you take pleasure in tongue-lashing me,” he’d remind them pointedly before jamming the rest of the head in.  Blood and bits of skin and pulp now covered the shredders, but even if there wasn’t a shredder nearby, Luigi always managed to use the insides of printers and copiers to flay, mutilate and mangle.  He’d also douse foes with ink and then throw a fireball at them, turning them into green pyres.  Now, he was punching a particularly vicious cyberbully in his foul mouth, clots of that crimson liquid spilling out of that pie-hole and staining his fists, and he allowed himself to think, just for a moment, what he was _doing_ in here, going on a destructive rampage when he should be in Sarasaland giving Daisy the comfort she needed during this trying time, or even comforting Mario and Peach over the unjust way Crazy Hand was treating them.  But the man he had pinned was now clawing at him, spitting profanities at him, and his buddies were running to his aid, and Luigi remembered how each of them had hurt him or made him miserable, how they were responsible for rejecting and dishonoring his Princess.  He thought about their boss, the troll of all trolls, counting his money and snickering over the various times he and the Bennigan Brothers [ _bleep_ ]-ed him in the you-know-where.  They all had to pay.  All of them were going to pay.  And so, he slammed at the man harder and harder, his brief question drowned out by the call for revenge.

 **You started something that you just couldn't stop,**  
You turned the ones that you love into the angriest mob.  
And their one last wish is that you pay for it  
And there's no way you're getting out of this!

 **Who do you think you are?**  
Tearing us all apart  
Where did you think you could go?  
'Cause everyone already knows  
It's twenty to one  
Yeah, so you better run!

              He rammed the man into the copy machine tray so hard that the edge pierced the back of his neck and then came out through the front.  Just as he turned away from him, a heavy punch thudded into him, sending him stumbling into another copier.  Slightly dazed, Luigi spun around and found himself face-to-face with another big lug.  Before he could push himself off the machine, the lug grinned and punched him again, and again and again and again—until Luigi pulled out a Gooey Bomb and calmly stuck it onto the lug’s shirt.

              Everyone immediately stopped attacking at once.

              “Oh, no…” someone gasped.

              “Run for it!” someone else screamed.

              The big lug stared, bewildered, as his comrades stampeded for the exits.  Then, he looked down at the thing on his shirt.

              “Huh?” he asked.

              The thing started to glow, brighter and brighter, and it felt hot against his chest.  That was when the lug realized what the thing was.  His mouth flew open, and his head snapped back up to look at the man in green as he strode out of the room.

              “Son of a…” he began.

              KA-BOOM!

              Luigi kept his gaze ahead as the explosion, followed by more general chaos, sounded behind him.  An eerie smile on his lips.

              “We need all able-bodied individuals on the floor, stat!” barked a panicked voice over the PA system.  “This is no [ _bleep_ ]!  Our location has been compromised!  Say again, our location has been compromised!  That stupid man in green has forced his way into our lair!  Get up off your butts, and step lively!  This is no god—n drill!”

              “Oh, you have no idea,” Luigi chuckled darkly as he continued into the next room.

 **You got the world on its knees**  
You're taking all that you please  
You want more! (You want more!)  
But you'll get nothing from me  
You're like the burden we bear  
You love the hate that we share  
You want more! (You want more!)  
But you'll get nothing from me  
But enemies! Enemies!! Enemies!!!

 **Where did you think you could go?**  
'Cause everyone already knows  
It's twenty to one  
Yeah, so you better run!

 **You got the world on its knees**  
You're taking all that you please  
You want more! (You want more!)  
But you'll get nothing from me  
You're like the burden we bear  
You love the hate that we share  
You want more! (You want more!)  
But you'll get nothing from me  
But enemies! Enemies!

 **You got the world on its knees**  
You're taking all that you please  
You want more! (You want more!)  
But you'll get nothing from me  
You're like the burden we bear  
You love the hate that we share  
You want more! (You want more!)  
But you'll get nothing from me  
But enemies! Enemies! Enemies!


	63. Day of the Plumber

**Beata, Maria,**

**You know I am a righteous man.**

**Of my virtue, I am justly proud.**

**Beata, Maria,**

**You know I’m so much purer than**

**The common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd!**

              The break room had turned into a makeshift bunker, the most staunch and cold-hearted bullies curled up on the floor, whimpering and praying aloud.  Not so tough anymore, now that their target was out to get them!  Without the shelter of their anonymous online personas, Luigi had easily picked them out.  Each tick of the clock more than matched the plumber’s footsteps as he drew closer and closer to the door.

              “I want my lawyer!” shouted the one called Nathan, who had tossed many a racial slur Luigi’s way.

              “I want my mommy!” wailed the one called Gibson, who spectated sports tournaments for the sole purpose of heckling and throwing things at Luigi.

              “I want my own private bunker with an Xbox One, Netflix and enough junk food to survive the zombie apocalypse!” proclaimed the one called Maurice, one of the bookkeepers for Project Nerf and Operation Ballot Box as well as a leader of the cyberbullying contingent.

              Everyone else glared askance at him.  “What?” he asked.

              “No doubt, there’s a traitor in our midst,” growled the one named George, famous in the Luigi-hating community for throwing up all over him whenever they crossed paths.  “How else did he pinpoint our lair?”

              They jumped at a heavy _thump_.  The door began to tremble.

              “Muster your courage, gentlemen!” exhorted George as the _thumps_ and _thuds_ continued.  “If we go down, then he’s going down with us!”

              **_BLAAAM!_**

The locked door erupted outward with a surge of green.  And there stood Luigi, fists clenched at his sides, breathing heavily, violent, tempestuous emotions in his eyes, banged up but relatively unscathed compared to what he left in his wake.

              “Break time’s over,” he announced in a clipped voice.

              “Now!” two men shouted in unison, barreling at Luigi with a cart.  But the man in green gracefully soared over their heads with a misfired Missile, and then plowed another misfire into the back of one of the men.  The heavy cart slammed into the other man, pinning him to the wall.  Luigi then walked up to that man, grabbed the cart, and rammed it into him seven more times before noticing the others running at him and kicking the cart into their midst.  Turning back to the formerly pinned man, now on the floor, Luigi stomped on him a few times before pulling out the scissors and disemboweling him.

              The others had recovered from the cart and charged at him once more.  Luigi caught Nathan’s arm as it swung towards him and jammed the scissors deep into the inside of his elbow so that it came out on the other side.  Nathan staggered backward, holding his arm and trying to stem the bleeding, when a savage cross-punch made contact with his face, sending him to the floor.  Gibson swung at chair at Luigi, but he knocked it out of his hands, got in close and smashed his torso with body blows.  George and Maurice now manned the cart and tried to ram it into Luigi from behind, but he was ready for them with a beautifully-executed double backflip.  George abandoned the cart, brandished a keychain with sharp keys attached, and handled it like a nun chuck.  The keys flashed viciously as they sought to rip into the plumber’s flesh, but he wouldn’t let them—he was too lithe and agile.  His face was calm as he executed impressive evasive maneuvers and answered back with the hottest fireballs he could generate.  Soon tiring of this, he moved in close for mighty body shots.  Once George was sufficiently weakened, his opponent attacked the face before a particularly stunning blow jarred the keychain from his hand.  Luigi smiled as he pocketed it, withdrew the fountain pen and jabbed it into the junction between George’s shoulder and neck.  He wrenched it out, pulled George’s head back and plunged the fountain pen into his neck over and over as blood fountained upward.

              Maurice chickened out and ran for the exit, screaming, “We’re all gonna die!”

              He didn’t get far.

              A Green Missile plowed into his back, knocking him onto his stomach.  After stomping his face into the carpet, Luigi attacked his backside with elbow strikes and landed a forward smash on the spinal cord.  He failed to notice Nathan crawling towards him, holding something in his hand—

              With Maurice taken care of, Luigi now confronted Gibson and the other remaining bullies in the room.  A frightening glint in his eye, he took the keychain and slashed it all over Gibson’s middle, his arms and legs and finally near his eyes.  Another man lunged at him from the side, but Luigi fired off some smash attacks and stopped another one’s approach with a roundhouse kick.  He snagged yet another with the mouse cord, pulling it tight, shoving a fiery fist into his mouth and burning him from the inside before jerking the cord roughly to the left, producing a satisfying _snap_.  The man’s limp form fell to the floor, and Gibson wasted no time trying to avenge him.  For some time, Gibson and Luigi exchanged blows, but then the former tried to cheat by slamming Luigi against the fridge.  Deftly, Luigi wrapped the keychain around Gibson’s biceps and yanked with all his strength, pushing the tips of the keys against his wrists.  Blood rapidly bubbled from Gibson’s wrists, but Luigi kept the pressure on, twisting the chain until he saw those arms growing purple from lack of circulation.  And with one last twist, Luigi broke them.

              Gibson screamed and fell to his knees.  Luigi removed the chain and proceeded to drag the keys down the man’s thighs, relishing in the red, jagged tears the edges produced.  He fractured both kneecaps with his elbow strikes, and rather than break the legs, he pulled off Gibson’s shoes and used the keychain to crush the man’s feet.

              Nathan saw his chance, yanking Luigi off Gibson and digging the sharp object into his shoulder.  Luigi released a deep gasp, and Nathan grinned as he slowly dragged the object down the side of the plumber’s body, stopping at the waist.  Then, he gave one sadistic twist and pulled it free, now using his fists to pummel his face, Luigi doing his best to escape despite the sudden injury.  But for the sake of symmetry, Nathan plunged his object into the other side of Luigi’s waist and tortuously dragged it up to his other shoulder.  After he wrenched it out, he carved a big “N” onto Luigi’s stomach.

              “Look at Daisy’s avenging angel now,” he smirked.

              Luigi didn’t want to hear it, spitting a mouthful of blood into his face and then kicking him off.  Shakily, he got to his feet and savagely hooked Nathan in his jaw, and then smashed him a few more times with jabs and uppercuts.  A Super Jump Punch finally took the man down, and Luigi immediately broke his neck with the keychain.

              Gibson moaned.  Luigi turned back to him and used the scissors to carve up random areas of his body, steering clear of the major arteries.  “That’ll do,” he murmured, kicking Gibson and leaving him to bleed out slowly.

**Like fire, Hellfire!**

**This fire in my skin—**

**This burning desire**

**Is turning me to sin—**

              More men in black poured into the break room to assist the remaining bullies.  Now, they wielded clubs in addition to nightsticks, heavier blows falling on Luigi from time to time.  But clubs and nightsticks were nothing compared to those sharp, sharps scissors and that lethal keychain complete with the keys Luigi used to gouge eyes from faces.  Ranks upon ranks closed in on him—yet he stood tall, letting his Smash attacks fly, before gashing and flaying away with the scissors and fountain pen, alternating between the mouse cord and the keychain to cause acute internal damage.  Once, he grabbed a chair by the legs and bashed it into the cranium of a man in black.  Then, he turned it over and sank the top of it into the man’s midsection, pulverizing him from the inside.  He bent people backwards over chairs to deal some hurt, as well.  With a vicious upward motion, he vertically sliced several unfortunate souls in half, gore falling to the floor.  He confronted someone else near the coffee table, who was eventually joined by his buddies as melee attacks from blunt objects clashed with fists and feet.  Like a viper, Luigi jabbed his hand hard into his opponents’ collarbones, sent crushing punches into their chests and got one of them to surrender his nightstick by breaking his hand.  Then, he grabbed the man and bent him backward over the coffee table.

              There was a fresh pot of coffee nearby.  He could do plenty of things to them with a fresh pot of coffee.  Luigi removed the coffee pot from the coffee maker and hovered it over the man’s face.

              “What are you doing?” the man demanded in a quavering voice.

              Luigi smiled at him and tipped the pot over.

              Agonized screams flew into his ears as he poured the black, scalding liquid all over his face and neck.  Immediately, his skin reddened and shriveled as horrid burns began to take shape.  He shoved the man off the table and stomped his stomach until the screams silenced.  And then he delicately poured the hot coffee all over the other men crumpled on the floor, stomping them or turning the nightstick on them afterwards.  A man leapt at him and missed, stumbling into the sink, and Luigi bashed his forehead against the faucet before tipping the coffee all over the back of his neck and in and behind his ears.  Two jabs of the nightstick into the backside sent the man crumpling.  He danced and dodged all over the break room, dumping the coffee onto anyone daring to attack him.  And when the pot was empty, he simply used it as a melee weapon, holding a fiery finger over it to keep it nice and hot, at one point using his fire to heat it up till it was glowing green!  Whenever he saw bare skin, he pressed the hot metal as hard as he could against it as his victims screamed for mercy.  He’d leave them writhing for a while as he hacked away at more bullies, and then come back for them as he remembered the vile things they did to him and how they laughed about it.  After filleting them with the scissors, keys or fountain pen, he’d use a manual hole-puncher to randomly pluck out teeth by the roots.  Preferably the canines and molars—extracting them produced more screams.  And he didn’t just go after teeth with that hole-puncher, either.

**It's not my fault, if in God’s plan**

**He made the Devil so much stronger than a man!**

              Eventually, he brained a guy with the hole puncher and then shoved both of his hands into a toaster before pushing the plunger down, forcing him to watch as the glowing plates burned his hands.  A man grabbed him around the waist, but Luigi elbowed him twice and beat him with the nightstick, deciding to jam his head into a microwave—and then turn it on.  The closed door muffled his screams and curses as his mug was thoroughly cooked.  He turned a corner and fought his way toward a bay of elevators just outside the break room.

**I am the shadow, and the smoke in your eyes  
I am the ghost, that hides in the night**

**Wait, wait a minute take a step back,**  
Gotta think twice before you react.  
So stay, stay a little while cause a promise  
Not kept is the road to exile  
Hey, what's the circumstance  
You'll never be great without taking a chance  
So, wait you waited too long  
Had your hands in your pocket  
When you should've been gone.

              After slamming the refrigerator and freezer doors onto the heads of several attackers, Luigi noticed another full coffee pot, poured himself a mug, added a dash of creamer, blew on it for a few seconds and then took a long sip.  “Good coffee,” he nodded.  He emptied the mug in a few swallows, smashed it into the face of a man in black, grabbed a donut from the platter of sweets and continued onwards.

              He reached the elevator bay and smacked the call button.  An elevator dinged, and the doors slid open, emptying a ton of Daddy Sakurai’s minions!  Luigi readied his nightstick as the other elevators opened, depositing more minions.  The elevator bay was soon swamped with them, and all of them had their sights set on Luigi.

              “It’s no use, plumber!” one of them barked.  “We have you completely surrounded!”

              Luigi slowed his breaths and spoke calmly in a low voice as he looked into the faces of Daddy Sakurai’s cronies.

              “I’m a plumber, you know.  And I have some drains to unclog in here.”

              “Get him!”  On that command, the minions dove for the solitary man in green.

              Luigi brought the nightstick up to his face, licking his lips as they raced closer—closer—closer—they were now eyeball close and he could feel them and smell them—his breathing getting faster and faster and faster—and at the last possible second, he struck.

 **One push is all you need**  
(Boom-lay boom-lay boom)  
This is philosophy.  
(Boom-lay boom-lay boom)  
We watch with wounded eyes.  
(Boom-lay boom-lay boom)  
So I hope you recognize.

 **Out on the front line, don't worry I'll be fine**  
The story is just beginning  
I say goodbye to my weakness, so long to the regrets  
And now I see the world through diamond eyes

 **D--n, d--n it all down**  
Took one to the chest without even a sound  
so, what, what do you want  
The things you love or the people you hurt  
Hey, it's like Deja vu suicidal maybe I got nothing to lose  
So wait, it's the exception to the rule  
Every one of us is expendable

              The nightstick cracked the jaw of the first minion he saw, and from there, Luigi fought his way forward, nightstick clashing with nightstick or club, taking cool aim of his trajectory so they could shatter as much as possible.  His scissors were rarely out of his hands now.  Playtime was over, and he was really going down to business!  Unfortunately, his efforts were increasingly futile.  With each minion he took down, more closed in on him.  There were too many men between him and the elevators, and he needed out of here—fast!  So, he plowed his way through the mass of minions the only way he could—with his Green Missile!  The mob parted like the Red Sea as his airborne body crashed into other bodies and slid straight into an open elevator.  He hopped back up and pressed the button for the topmost floor, holding off the regrouping mob with fireballs until the elevator doors mercifully banged shut.

              Luigi closed his eyes and released a long exhale, leaning against the railing and allowing himself to relax for a bit as the Musak version of “The Girl from Ipanema” wafted through the elevator.  He took off his cap, fixed his hair and slid the cap back on.  Then, he admired his reflection in the mirror, taking in all his injuries.  A few Mushrooms would do the trick.  He spun back around and watched the numbers climb upward, imagining the look on that troll’s face when he was finally face-to-face with his fed-up cash cow.  The things he was going to do to him—

              He gasped when the elevator suddenly slowed and came to a stop.  Quickly, he jolted into a fighting stance.  This could only mean one thing—

 **One push is all you need**  
(Boom-lay boom-lay boom)  
This is philosophy.  
(Boom-lay boom-lay boom)  
We watch with wounded eyes.  
(Boom-lay boom-lay boom)  
So I hope you recognize.

 **Out on the front line, don't worry I'll be fine**  
The story is just beginning  
I say goodbye to my weakness,  
So long to the regrets  
And now I know that I'm alive

 **Out on the front line, don't worry I'll be fine**  
The story is just beginning  
I say goodbye to my weakness so long to the regrets  
And now I see the world through  
Diamond Eyes

 **Every night of my life I watch angels fall from the sky**  
Every time that the sun still sets  
I pray they don't take mine

 **I'm on the front line, don't worry I'll be fine**  
The story is just beginning  
I say goodbye to my weakness so long to regrets

 **Out on the front line, don't worry I'll be fine**  
The story is just beginning  
I say goodbye to my weakness so long to the regrets  
And now I know that I'm alive

 **Out on the front line, don't worry I'll be fine**  
The story is just beginning  
I say goodbye to my weakness, so long to the regrets  
And now I see the world through diamond eyes

 **Out on the front line, don't worry I'll be fine**  
The story is just beginning  
(The story is just beginning)  
I say goodbye to my weakness,  
So long to the regrets  
And now I see the world through  
Diamond eyes…


	64. One Day Too Late

**Tick tock hear the clock countdown**  
**Wish the minute hand could be rewound**  
 **So much to do and so much I need to say**  
 **Will tomorrow be too late**

 **Feel the moment slip into the past**  
**Like sand through an hourglass**  
 **In the madness I guess I just forget**  
 **To do all the things I said**

**Launching yourself like a rocket into someone’s lair is a grand way to make an entrance.  Misfiring straight into the lobby, sending plaster and debris flying around you, is a grander entrance.  The looks on the faces of the people I confront are priceless, if you ask me.  As soon as they look into my eyes, they know they’re going to get it.  All their sins against me are finally coming back to bite them.**

**From the moment I penetrate their little fortress with my trusty Green Missile, I know that I’m unable to hold myself in.  So I let it explode—everything I’ve kept inside of my while trying to deal with these people “the right way”.  Inside that building, my rage finally reaches its zenith.  I clench my fists and then slam them into every bully challenging me.  They charge at me by the dozen, some trying to match their fists with mine or swinging blunt objects at me, and others attacking me from behind and trying to garrote me.  But their sheer number are no match for my fury, and I soon snatch weapons for myself.  First, a golf club to parry melee attacks before viciously bludgeoning bully after bully.  Then, a letter opener, and eventually a pair of scissors to plunge into them, sending blood shooting and spraying everywhere.  Modem towers, keyboards and computer screens to bash those ugly faces into.  Jamming fingers and tongues into printers, copy machines and eventually shredders.  Violently pulling out teeth and breaking fingers with an old-fashioned hole-puncher.  Puncturing with a fountain pen.  In a break room, people try to ram me with a cart, but I ram them with it instead.  I steal a keychain and a nightstick for myself before tearing everyone up in there.  I leave one with his hand in a toaster, and another with his hand in a microwave.  It’s just my luck that there are two steaming hot pots of coffee sitting there, waiting to be used.  After emptying the contents of one on my antagonists, I help myself to a mug from the other.**

**Now, I’m in the elevator bay, where a phalanx of guards pours out of several elevators to make short work of me.  My blood is rushing so hard right now.  I hold my nightstick at the ready and just let go when they charge me.  Instead of allowing the hits to fall wherever, I aim for nerves, bone and muscle, seeking to cause the most pain.  Amidst the din, I hear the impact of nightstick against bone, and it’s such a wonderful sound.  Sometimes, I take swings at skulls, but other times, I decimate the body first, watching them wither to the floor, blood squirting and vomiting and pooling everywhere.  Their agonized shrieks, my cries of bloodlust.  I am like Ares, the god of war, striking down with gory vengeance against the scoundrels and a-holes who did this to me.**

**Time passes by**  
**Never thought I'd wind up**  
 **One step behind**  
**Now I've made my mind up**

 **Today I'm gonna try a little harder**  
**Gonna make every minute last longer**  
 **Gonna learn to forgive and forget**  
 **Cause we don't have long, gonna make the most of it**

 **Reach out to somebody who needs me**  
**Make a change, make the world a better place**  
 **Cause tomorrow could be one day too late**  
 **One day too late**  
 **One day too late**

**I hate them.  I _hate_ them.  The guards in the black suits and the cowardly bullies they were about to usher away.  I hate them for what they’ve done to me.  I hate them for what they’ve done to Daisy, and by extension, to Mario and to Peach.  I shouldn’t be doing this; it violates everything I believe in.  I try to tell myself that multiple times—one time as I’m punching a man’s face in, and another time as I subdue a guard with a nightstick and hack away with the scissors.  Why am I here when I should be comforting Mario and Peach after what Crazy Hand did to them, or comforting Daisy in the wake of these latest revelations?  After all, I went straight to Daisy when she was passed up in favor of Bayonetta, knowing that she needed my touch and my love.  But I see the tears in her eyes and the posts on Miiverse, and the testimonies of how my fans suffered at the hands of these sadists, and the pain on my brother’s face as he’s punished for doing what any hero would do for his lady.  I see the lack of remorse for tearing lives apart.  I remember the red bullet point last year, condemning my combo game.  I remember the confirmation of my long-simmered suspicions—that the 1.1.1 update and Daisy’s rejection were grand schemes to torment me.  And the rage and the frustration chokes me and invades me, and I can’t take anymore, and I holler as I would in any Smash battle as I plow my way through the men in black like the Sandbags at night.  I’m exhilarated and at the end of my rope, and my target is them.  I’m going to destroy them like they tried to destroy me.**

**Tick tock hear my life pass by**  
**I can't erase and I can't rewind**  
 **Of all the things I regret the most I do**  
 **Wish I'd spent more time with you**

 **Here's my chance for a new beginning**  
**I saved the best for a better ending**  
 **And in the end, I'll make it up to you, you'll see**  
 **You'll get the very best of me**

**Bruises litter my body, and both of my eyes are swelling up.  Fists and nightsticks have made contact with me despite my fighting skills.  My tongue flicks out and tastes blood and sweat—coppery and salty like tears.  Breath pounds out of my lungs, my cries continuing to tear loose from my vocal cords.  After hitting one guard with the nightstick a few times, I knock him into a wall with my forward smash, and then I Goomba Stomp his back with both feet, bounding off him and sprinting towards an elevator.  Round and round I whirl like a small green tornado, enemies flying in all directions.  The elevator slides open, and I dive inside, swinging a few pursuers around before tossing them into their comrades with excellent power.  I manage to hold them off with fireballs before the doors mercifully close.**

**In an ascending rectangular box, “The Girl from Ipanema” playing on low, my reflection my sole companion.  I need to fix my hair; it looks a little wild and matted.  I smooth it back into place.  A battered, sweaty man in green smiles at me, and I smile back.  Two black eyes, a broken nose, blood seeping out of my mouth, eggs on my jaw, clothes concealing other injuries.  I slide a Mushroom into my mouth; it should take care of the worse wounds.  As I turn around to face the front, I feel my heart speed up as I imagine what Daddy Sakurai has to say to me for jerking me around since God-knows-when.  I imagine the looks I’ll see on the Bennigan Brothers as I confront them.  I wonder if they’ll be so tough then.**

**Time passes by**  
**Never thought I'd wind up**  
 **One step behind**  
 **Now I've made my mind up**

 **Today I'm gonna try a little harder**  
**Gonna make every minute last longer**  
 **Gonna learn to forgive and forget**  
 **Cause we don't have long, gonna make the most of it**

 **Reach out to somebody who needs me**  
**Make a change, make the world a better place**  
 **Cause tomorrow could be one day too late**  
 **One day too late**

**I feel the elevator slow, and it’s nowhere close to my destination.  Every fiber in my body snaps to attention as the elevator comes to a stop and the doors open.  In step no less than eight men—big, strong men with nightsticks and crowbars and cattle prods and Tasers.  They all crowd into the elevator, which now seems smaller than it really is.  Cheap cologne assaults my nostrils, but I keep my eyes in front, pretending not to notice them even though I feel them glaring at me.  One of them presses the “door close” buttons, and knuckles begin to crack as the doors casually slide closed.  My heart thrums at a brisk pace.  I’m breathing a little erratically.  I regain control of my breaths just as the elevator doors bang shut.**

**That’s when they pounce.**

**Almost a dozen of them against one of me.  What’s a plumber to do?  Luckily, I have my scissors, nightstick, keychain and mouse cord to assist.  For close-range, I use my fists and feet.  My hard elbows smash into faces, chests and shoulders.  I duck under wild swings of blunt objects and retaliate with my nightstick, as well as some swift kicks.  I slam heads against the elevator railing.  The long mouse cord coils around necks or arms.  I fracture wrists and ankles.  I slice and stab with my scissors.  The elevator has little space, but I still manage to utilize it by dancing along the walls and throwing in a Cyclone from time to time.  I focus on the garbage I’ve endured and let it build until it becomes an indestructible machine, a machine turned loose against the attackers in the elevator.  I attack harder and harder, easily wrestling Tasers out of hands.  Sticking them in mouths, armpits or belly buttons and pressing the trigger, watching them twitch and jerk before letting them fall limp to the floor.  Allowing myself to drop, to attack calves and ankles with nightstick, knife, fountain pen or key—whichever is suitable for the situation.  Sending them to the floor, helpless and disarmed of their weapons.**

**And that’s when the apologies start.**

**They struggle to crawl away from me as I overpower them, but there’s not much hiding space in a moving elevator.  They’re cornered against a wall, looking at me with huge, pleading eyes.  I can smell their fear, along with something else—urine.  One of them, or some of them, or all of them—currently wetting themselves out of true terror.  Not so high and mighty now that the target of their tormenting is standing over them, not as weak as they swore he’d be!  And in a final, desperate bid for their wicked lives, they start blubbering about how sorry they are.**

**_Sure_ , they’re sorry.  _Sure_ , they feel awful about what they put me, Daisy, Peach and Mario through.  _Sure_ , they regret making my fans feel like crap, for the Miiverse posts, for the plushie burnings and escalating harassment until it turned into the Hell which Spike perfected to a science.  I just _bet_ they’re sorry now.**

**But they’re actually not.  They’re just sorry I busted them.**

**I can tell whether someone is genuinely sorry or not.  Fox and Falcon—they were genuinely sorry for their behavior in 1999 and 2001.  Pikachu—he was genuinely sorry for that feud in Melee.  Ryu—he was genuinely sorry for trash-talking me.  But the others—they weren’t genuinely sorry.  They just used the apology as a free ticket to try and escape the consequences of their actions.**

**Your time is running out**  
**You're never gonna get it back**  
 **So make the most of every moment**  
 **Stop saving the best for last**

 **Gonna make every minute last longer**  
**Gonna learn to forgive and forget**  
 **Cause we don't have long, gonna make the most of it**

**In this elevator, the once tough bullies cowering before me, begging for my mercy—they’re not sorry at all.  If they were actually sorry, then would they have kept doing those things?  No.  They’ve had numerous opportunities to see the error of their ways and win my forgiveness.  They’ve had a chance to turn back while they still could.  And they blew it.  They all blew it.  This elevator will not be a scene of redemption.  It will be a scene of retribution.**

**One by one, I punish the men who attacked me in that elevator.  I give the nightstick a break and settle for the scissors and the Taser.  I’m generous enough to allow them to choose which one they want to experience first.  Too bad they don’t appreciate it—they reply by insulting me or spitting in my face.  So, I just make the choice for them.  I pour volts of electricity into them while carving deep into their bodies, making sure they look at me.  I’ll be the last sight they’ll ever see before their descent into the Inferno.  And I know that the hottest places will be specially reserved for them.**

**They realize that nobody’s coming to save them and shriek out one final mea culpa, just as empty and hollow as the previous.  But they’re too late.  One day too late.  Many days too late.  Thirty-three years too late.**

**At last, the elevator falls silent.  I breathe deeply, maintaining control of my powerful emotions.  Inhaling, exhaling, and feeling every mark these monsters left on me, marks old and new.  Tears worry at my eyes, and I immediately swipe them away.  I can’t cry in front of these fools.  I won’t cry.**

**Reach out to somebody who needs me**  
**Make a change, make the world a better place**  
 **Cause tomorrow could be one day too late**  
 **One day too late**  
 **One day too late**  
 **One day too late**  
 **One day too late**

**The elevator reaches my stop.  The top floor.  The offices of Vincent, Manny, Shane and Sakurai.  I set my jaw as the doors open and step out into the brightly lit corridor.**

**Those four had better be ready, because they’re about to witness the worst side of Player Two.**


	65. Kronos Unveiled, Part 4

              “Master, don’t worry.  I’m sure he’s having a ball,” Mario assured the Hand of Creation over the phone.  “I’m sure he’s just relaxing on Isle Delfino with a mai tai or chilling with Daisy in Sarasaland.  No, he’s not up to anything fishy, and neither am I.  Okay, I gotta go; I’ve got work to do.”

              He hung up and rolled his eyes, sighing in exasperation.  Master Hand was one nosy glove!  Shouldn’t he be worrying over _other_ things, like the fact that Peach’s surprise nerf was still in effect?  Try as he might, he couldn’t help but feel deep-seated anger toward both Master.  He claimed to understand why he erupted on Crazy, but did he really?  If someone tried to hurt one of his Smashers, then wouldn’t he be as angry as him or Peach—or Luigi?  Why couldn’t he just see things their way?

              Peach walked over with some more “kicked up” iced tea.  “Hey.  You okay?”

              “Yeah.  I’m fine.  You?” Mario smiled as he accepted his glass.

              “Master Hand’s nagging you again, isn’t he?”

              Mario took a sip.  “Yup.”

              “Well, this might cheer you up,” smirked Peach.  “I may have uncovered something big.”

              Mario perked up, just as she expected.  “Really?  Does it involve…?”

              “Mmm-hmm,” smiled Peach.  She settled next to Mario, opened her laptop and booted it up.  “Following Luigi’s departure, I decided to do some more digging—and I see that you have, as well.  You find anything?”

              Mario smiled teasingly.  “Ladies first.”

              Peach took a deep breath, all business.  “Okay.  Remember when Rosalina told you that things got physical between Master and Luigi, and then Crazy’s words set his brother off to ranting?”

              “Yeah.  And then Crazy got the idea to punish Luigi by crippling him, but eventually abandoned the project.”

              Peach held up a finger.  “Not entirely,” she clarified.  “Take a look at this.”  She inched her laptop forward so Mario could see.

               “ _Mio Dio_ ,” breathed Mario.

              Crazy Hand had written a nine-page dissertation describing the “problem” with Luigi and why he felt he needed to be nerfed.  Secretly, he’d mailed a hard copy of the dissertation to the Bennigan Brothers, and then he made a PDF of the document to post on the anti-Luigi website.

              “It was published under a pen name,” Peach explained, “but as soon as I read it, I knew it was Crazy.”

              Mario rubbed a hand across his chin as he read what could be described as a nine-page rant targeting his little brother.  “I knew it,” he murmured.  “As soon as he went off on Luigi, I knew it.”

              “He’s even talking about how much Luigi wants his—his— _bedmate_ —in the tournament, and I’m paraphrasing that,” swallowed Peach.  “It’s really bad, Mario.  Though he chickened out doing the dirty work, he communicated with the conspirators via the blog, email and written dissertations like this one.”

              “You mean—he wrote more of these—things?!” gasped Mario.

              Peach nodded gravely.  “According to Crazy Hand, Luigi was ‘uppity’ and ‘didn’t stay in his place’ as Player Two’.  When Master Hand ranted that Luigi shouldn’t had been invited, Crazy agreed wholeheartedly, even though Master didn’t really mean it.  And look, he even went after you for threatening not to participate if they didn’t let Luigi in.”

              “But—he approved both of our applications…” started Mario.

              “ _Master Hand_ approved both of your applications,” clarified Peach, “and he was genuinely impressed by Luigi’s abilities.  We thought Crazy Hand was, too—and maybe he was—until after Luigi started gaining popularity.”

              “Jealously, maybe?” postulated Mario.

              “Or his tendencies as the Hand of Destruction,” sighed Peach.  “He may have had a plot against L up his sleeve for years.”

              “We never saw this coming,” sighed Mario.

              “Nope,” said Peach, “and that’s not it.  Crazy not only sent these hateful documents to the conspirators, but he also supported them financially.”

              “No way!”

              “From August to September, Crazy Hand sent the Bennigan Brothers a $500 check each week,” reported Peach.  “He also wired 650G to each of the Smashers involved.  Plus, he paid for their food, transportation and housing.  And don’t get me started on the extravagant gifts he sent them periodically, even after Project Nerf was finished.”

              “Was he—also involved in Operation Ballot Box?”

              “I haven’t found proof of that—yet.  But I bet you ten to one that he was!”

              “Let me get this straight—Crazy Hand chickened out of directly participating in Project Nerf—but he actively corresponded with them and served as their financier?!”

              Peach nodded somberly.

              “And we can’t do anything about it because we’re still suspended.  We promised Master Hand that if we kept our cool, then he’d lift the suspension early.”

              “Well, _we_ can’t do anything about it,” Peach said wryly, “but Luigi can.  I can tell he’s been dying for an excuse to whale away at Crazy ever since that tongue lashing.”  She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.  “So.  What did you find out?”

              “I’m trying to connect that glove to Operation Ballot Box without success,” explained Mario.  “I called up an old friend who claims that he had a few beers with Crazy one night.  And Crazy said that—he wished Tabuu had killed Luigi.  Which made the friend—and me—wonder, was Crazy behind the Subspace thing?  I mean, Tabuu hurt Master, but Crazy was strangely absent.”

              Peach pursed her lips.  “I doubt that Crazy would be that destructive, but I believe your friend.  But—what if Crazy didn’t mean that?  He may have been intoxicated.”

              “True—true,” said Mario, “but I also came across a video of a ‘shocking’ interview of Crazy Hand, in which he was completely sober.  And you won’t believe what he has to say.”

              Mario fetched the video from his “Saved” tab and hit the “play” button.

              “Toadette brought it to my attention,” explained Mario.

              _“So—you’re saying that Daisy isn’t your favorite character in the Nintendo universe?”_ asked the interviewer.

              “ _I don’t like her, period!_ ” Crazy Hand replied.  “ _I don’t like her attitude, I don’t like her kingdom, I don’t like her in Mario Party, I don’t like her in the sports and kart races, I don’t like her looks—whoever thought about bringing her in is cuckoo in the head.”_

_“Why?  Is it because she fell for Luigi?”_

_“What purpose does she serve?  She’s never been in a game of her own, has she?  The only time I’ve seen her in a game other than a spin-off was in_ Super Mario Land _—she was never even in the sequel.  And of all guys—why did she flip for Luigi?  He has_ nothing _a lady would want in a man!”_

_“Who would you put Daisy with?”_

_“Honestly, I wouldn’t have minded if she wound up as Tatanga’s concubine for the rest of her days.  Carrying squishy alien babies in her womb and living in a house full of tentacled children like a Stepford wife from outer space—the role would be perfect for her!  I mean, the thought of her in Luigi’s bed—makes me physically ill.”_

_“So, Nintendo is better off without Daisy.”_

_“Nintendo is better off without both of them—well, except for Luigi being in the Player Two slot while Mario gets the glory and the girl!  That’s why he was brought in, wasn’t he?”_   Crazy Hand burst into giggles.

              Peach clenched her fists.  “Son of a…” she seethed.

              Mario hit the “pause” button.  “Well, the good news is—we finally have something on Crazy Hand,” he said.  “The question is—what to do with it?”

              “Isn’t it obvious?  Send it to Luigi,” said Peach.  “He’s going to get a kick out of this—a big kick.  What he’s doing to those bullies will seem like a picnic in the park compared to what he has in store for the Hand of Destruction.”

              “But—Crazy Hand can’t die,” said Mario.

              “I never said anything about killing him,” hissed Peach.

              “Frankly, I think the Bennigan Brothers and Daddy Sakurai deserve worse than death,” shrugged Mario, “but I’ll let Luigi decide what’s best.  But since Crazy Hand can’t die—I think Luigi will find a way to keep that glove in eternal agony.”  He smiled.  “Let’s get this ball rolling and send this stuff to my baby bro, shall we?”

              “Of course,” nodded Peach.

              “Care to do the honors, Peachy?”

              “With pleasure.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              “Hello?”

              “Hi, Crazy Hand?  This is Vince at the office.  Could you get over here—now?”

              “Sure.  Why?”

              “Because we’re in a _situation_ , that’s why!”

              Crazy froze for a full second.  “I’ll be right there.”

              He hung up the phone and floated out of his office.  “Bro, could you and Dad hold down the fort?” he asked.

              “Uh—sure,” Master said slowly.  “Why?”

              “I have a personal matter to attend to,” explained Crazy.  “I should be back tonight, late.  And…”

              “Yeah.”

              “Tell Dad that I’m sorry.  For being snooty with him after snapping at Luigi.  That—was uncalled for.  And he was right.  I shouldn’t have been mean to him.  Maybe if I had been compassionate, Peach wouldn’t have flown off the handle—none of this mess would’ve been made.  When I come back, I swear I will make things right.  With all of you.”

              Master smiled slightly.  “Glad you’ve come to your senses, Crazy.”

              The two Hands shared a hug before Crazy teleported away.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              Meanwhile, in Daddy Sakurai’s lair, the bullies were either fleeing for their lives or fighting for their lives.  They were further alarmed when they saw that the eight men who had charged into the elevator had failed to dispatch the man in green.  Now that he was closer to the men he was looking for, Luigi was a F5 tornado, leaving beaten and mangled subordinates in his wake.  Limbs were twisted at impossible angles.  Jaws were crushed.  Blood puddled on the carpet.  The man in green had started leaving them alive, so they could tell the world what happened when they [ _bleep_ ]-ed with him.  He was pumped and growing angrier with each step he took—and—and—

              …and he needed to pee.

              Luckily, the men’s room was just a few footsteps away from Shane’s office.  Luigi slipped inside and relieved himself with a sigh of relief.  In the mirror, he saw the door open and a man walk in.  He seemingly paid him no mind as he took a spot beside the plumber and tended to his business.  But he saw the sweat beading on the guy’s forehead.  He was obviously guilty of _something._

              “Hello,” Luigi greeted casually.

              The man jumped.  “Oh.  Hi,” he said distractedly.

              “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Luigi said in a soothing voice.  “Unless, of course, you’re hiding something from me.”

              “What Sakurai’s doing—it’s nothing personal,” said the man.  “It’s just good business.  Please understand.”

              “It sounds personal to me,” muttered Luigi, finishing up with his business and washing his hands, “but if you have something to confess, by all means, confess, and I swear on the Stars that you will come to no harm.”

              “Don’t worry, L,” the man said, a little too quickly.  “My hands are clean in this.  Figuratively speaking.”

              “Hmm.  Maybe if I talk to the interns who had their heads ducked in toilets by your hand, they’ll tell me otherwise.”

              “Wait, what?”

              Next thing he knew, Luigi had snatched him by the crop of his hair and hauled him into a bathroom stall.  Inside was an unflushed toilet full of both types of waste.  Perfect.

              “Luigi what are you— _gurgle-gurgle_!”

              Forcefully, Luigi shoved the man’s face deep into the toilet until his nose touched the bottom of the bowl.  He twisted and thrashed, attempting to get away, but Luigi pinned his entire weight on him, pinning his face in the foulness.

              Just as the toilet ducker was about to pass out, Luigi yanked his head back out and allowed him to cough up the filthy water.  Then, he slammed his face against the mirror a few times before repeatedly bashing it against the faucet.

              “You thirsty, huh?  You thirsty, buddy?” Luigi asked harshly.

              “I…”

              “Take a big drink!”  On those words, Luigi shoved the man back into the unflushed toilet.

              And then—he flushed.

              The bully’s gurgled screams pursued Luigi as he washed his hands for the second time and then walked out of the bathroom.

              As he reached Shane’s office, he saw that Austin, now badly injured, was alerting the younger Bennigan to his presence.  Coolly, Luigi grabbed Austin and cut off his warnings with several spearhand strikes to the throat and chest.  Then, he turned to face Shane, shutting the office door behind him.

              “Hello, Shane,” he said with a smile.  “It’s nice for us to finally meet in person.”

             

 

             

 

             

             


	66. Verdant Fury

              Shane Bennigan knew that his goose was cooked.

              Sitting at his desk, the man he antagonized for years a short distance from him, there was no escape.  No one to rescue him.  He probably couldn’t rely on the desk to keep him safe.

              Today was his Judgement Day.

              His eyes scanned the desk for a weapon.  Maybe he could bludgeon him with a paperweight or ram his mug into his computer.  Maybe he could slam his fingers into a drawer.  Maybe…

              With a calm expression on his face, Luigi crossed the room so that he was standing right at Shane’s desk.  The youngest Bennigan could feel his heart slamming against his chest as those blue eyes met him and condemned him.

              “Can I help you?” he asked.

              “Stuart never told me about you,” Luigi said softly.  “Now, I see why.  He didn’t want me to know that he was already knee-deep in scum.  When he laughed at me for being nominated for Smasher of the Month and played the victim to get me in trouble—I had no idea there was more where _that_ came from.  But I wonder—once you and Vince and Manny saw that Stu was under fire, why didn’t you come to his rescue, since you loved him so much?”

              “We’re busy men, L,” Shane said as evenly as he could.  “We had no way of knowing.  And by the time we found out that you got the best of him, we were smack in the middle of a project.”

              “Project Nerf, you mean,” said Luigi.  He gripped the mahogany desk and leaned forward.  “Oh, yeah—I know _everything_ now.  That all four of you spearheaded a scheme to keep Daisy from the Smash tournaments.  That you manipulated Master Hand into nerfing me to ‘put me back in my place’.  That you put this entire bullying network together.  Well, guess what?  Your reign of terror ends today.  Forever.”

              Shane laughed.  “And what are you gonna do about it?” he mocked.  “Are you gonna wail to your brother, the face of Nintendo?  Or are you going to further manipulate the masses over how you deserve to be treated like a king when you’re barely any help at all?”

              “What makes you think I need my brother to take care of you?” Luigi replied with a hiss, lowering himself onto the edge of the desk.  “I may be a timid man, but if someone insults or lays hands on my Princess, then you’ve awakened a lion’s den.”

              “Well, if that isn’t the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” sneered Shane.  “The lady in distress, crying out to her hero to save her from the hounds.  What makes her so important, anyway?  I’ve never seen her in a major Mario game!  Why do you think Smash should waste time and money with her?”

              “You think I’m the only one who wanted Daisy in Smash?” Luigi shot back.  “Peach is her best friend!  Mario was lobbying Nintendo alongside me to get her in!  And Yoshi and DK and Diddy—they’re fond of her, too!  I hate to break it to you, but Daisy is loved and adored by many, and she justly rules a peaceful country!  There is no reason to torture her!”

              “Oh, yeah?  How did you know that they weren’t going to make her a Peach clone?” snickered Shane.  “Face it, Luigi—after the Tatanga business, the suits didn’t know what else to do with her, so they plopped her into those sports games.  That alien could have her, for all I care!”

              “Do you have any idea what Tatanga did to her when she was in his clutches?” gasped Luigi.  “Do you know the Hell she would’ve lived in?”

              Shane guffawed.  “Hell?  It would’ve been Paradise!  A squishy alien growing inside her for nine months, waving its slimy tentacles everywhere when she brought it into the world!  Being the perfect trophy wife of a powerful intergalactic ruler, popping out squishy alien babies from time to time!  At least she would’ve never gotten with the likes of _you_!”

              “Is that what you don’t like about her?” challenged Luigi.  “That she fell in love with me?”

              “You don’t deserve happiness,” snarled Shane.  “I mean, look at you?  You think any self-respecting woman of high rank would want _that_?  Does she even care about what you do for a living?”

              “No, because that’s what love is!” Luigi stated hotly.

              “You know what?  In this modern world, there are two camps, winners and losers.  Mario is a winner, and you are a loser, and we’re just making sure you stay there.”

              “Well, then go after me!  Daisy has nothing to do with it!”

              “Why should we?  All she does is strut around, play sports and race in karts!  She’s a loser, just as much as you!  On second thought, you two are _made_ for each other!”

              That was the last thing he said before Luigi slammed a paperweight onto his left hand with all his might.  Shane yowled in agony as every bone in his hand and fingers was crushed beyond oblivion.  Then, Luigi brought the paperweight down onto the other hand, grinding it into the gravel that was once a network of bones.

              “Oh, my God!  Look what you’ve done to me!”

              “Oh, I haven’t done anything yet, you contemptible pig!” snapped Luigi as he pulled back and crashed the paperweight into Shane’s face.  Stars exploded before his eyes as the chair he sat on toppled backwards, spilling him onto the floor.

              Luigi hopped off the desk and straddled him, a twisted smile on his lips.  “I wish Stuart had brought his beloved brothers into Smash—so you would’ve seen what I did to him that day!” he said darkly.  “You would’ve gotten a fair warning of what happened if you tried to hurt me and anyone close to me!”  He pinned Shane down by his scalp as he used the paperweight to sadistically batter his face.  The other man’s cries became garbled as blood gurgled in his throat.

              After one last slam, Luigi yanked Shane up to a sitting position and showed him the blood covering the paperweight before hurling it across the room.  “You had it all planned out, didn’t you?  Sending Stuart in to break me and then swooping in to deliver the finishing blow!  Did that plan also have Daddy Sakurai’s stamp of approval?  Have you been buddies from the get-go?  Did he decide that he milked me dry and plot to have me drummed out of the Nintendo universe in disgrace?!”

              Luigi punched Shane in his already broken face, and then again and again and again until his knuckles were as bloody as the paperweight.  Then, he took his scissors and stuck them straight in his ribcage, twisting them once—twice, and then dragging them upwards before yanking them out.  He pulled Shane to his feet and made him watch his own blood spouting onto his carpet, onto his chair, onto all his documents and the pictures lining his desk.  Noticing his eyes glazing over, Luigi force-fed him a Mushroom and then slammed his face into the desk several good, hard times, eventually using the mouse cord to bind his wrists to one of the desk’s legs.

              “Handsome snow globe,” Luigi mused, picking up the decoration and using the scissors to cut a perfect hole in the glass.  He stepped over, jerked Shane’s head back and poured the snow globe fluid all over his beaten face before shattering the glass and plunging each shard into the nerve points on his prisoner’s body.

              “You’ll pay for this!” hissed Shane.

              “For what?  It’s _you_ who needs to pay,” Luigi said smartly as he opened a drawer and extracted a pocket knife with Shane’s initials on the handle.  He slipped it into his pocket and then manipulated the bound hands into the drawer.  It was a wide drawer, so Shane’s forearms could fit without difficulty.  His elbows rested at the edge of the drawer, just how Luigi liked it.

              “Try to hang in there for me, okay?”

              Luigi thrust his hip at the drawer, slamming it closed as hard as he could muster.  Shane screamed.  Luigi slowly pulled the drawer back open, waited for his prisoner to recover, and then slammed it again.  Shane roared.  Luigi opened the drawer and then slammed it once more.  Open and slam.  Open and slam.  Bones crunched, and fragments grinded against each other.  With each slam, Luigi applied greater and greater force.  Once he decided enough damage had been done, he dumped Shane onto the chair, re-adjusted the mouse cord so that Shane’s arms were tied behind the chair’s back and then pulled off his shoes.

              “No!  Please!  No!”

              Luigi shoved Shane’s right foot into the lower drawer and then savagely closed it, hearing a bone in Shane’s shin crack.  He gave the right foot ten or more sound slams before taking care of the other foot.

              “Oh, God!  Help me!”

              “He’s not listening right now, Shane,” Luigi said softly, gently stroking his hair.

              “I’m sorry for what I’ve done!  Forgive me!”

              “It’s too late for forgiveness,” replied Luigi, undoing Shane’s belt buckle, unbuttoning his slacks and pulling them off before burning off his briefs.  “Contrary to what you think, I’m everything a lady would want.  Gentle, compassionate, loving, strong.  But you—you’re vile, slimy and full of lies.  No woman will want you after hearing about what you’ve done.  But I know you’ll see a gorgeous lady and want to sink your hooks into her.  So, I’ll make you a deal.  I’ll spare your life—but I’ll remove temptation from your path and make it so you’ll never feel those distracting sensations around a woman.”

              Delicately, he eased Shane’s package into the drawer.  “Now, hold still.  I’ve never done this before, and it’s going to get messy.”

              “Luigi, please!”

              Slam.

              Slam.

              Slam.

              Slam.

              Slam.

              Slam.

              Slam.

              Slam…

              Shane’s high-pitched screams continued even after Luigi finished having his fun with him and made his way to Manny’s office—

 


	67. Am I Not Merciful?

              Emmanuel “Manny” Bennigan, the middle Bennigan brother, waited for Luigi at his desk, fiddling with a penknife.  And he didn’t have to wait long.  Within a minute after Shane’s screams subsided, his door swung open, and Luigi emerged, his bright eyes taking in the sharp weapon his next opponent possessed.

              “Hello, Manny,” Luigi greeted politely.  “I see you’ve come prepared.  So have I.”

              He fished out Shane’s pocket knife and flipped it open.  “For what it’s worth, I would’ve given him a chance to use this,” he mused, “but he was too busy running his mouth.”

              “I hoped you listened to him, because every word he said was true,” Manny said calmly.

              “I knew you’d say that,” said Luigi, closing the door behind him.  “Just be fortunate that I decided to let him live.  In fact, I just might leave you, Shane and Daddy Sakurai alive, if not well, if I’m merciful enough.”

              Manny stood up, penknife at the ready.  “Luigi, I know you feel that you’re obligated to defend your Princess,” he said, rolling his eyes, “but I ask of you—walk away.  Walk away while you still can.”

              Luigi stared hugely at him before bursting into laughter.

              “You call that asking?” he chuckled.  “You can ask better than that.”

              The glint in his eyes turned dangerous as he positioned a fighting stance.  He took slow, deep breaths as Manny strolled toward him.  The grip on the pocket knife tightened; he’d let Manny charge first.  Now that he was resolved to keeping the ringleaders of this bullying business alive, he had to go into this fight differently than the previous ones.

              “Come here, green one!” boomed Manny, lunging forward and taking a swipe.

              Luigi slid out of the way and jammed the pocket knife low, into Manny’s kneecap.  Manny yowled and hopped on one foot, clutching the knee with his free hand.

              “You’ll pay for that, twerp!” he roared, slashing at Luigi again.

              Luigi parried the slash with the pocket knife, grabbed the knife-wielding arm and twisted it forcefully before sinking his own blade into Manny’s bicep.  He twisted it, pulled it out and then plunged it again into Manny’s shoulder.  For a final touch, he dislocated and then broke the arm.

              The penknife fell to the floor.  Thinking quickly, Luigi kicked it away before Manny could pick it back up with his other hand.  Manny whimpered, his eyes bugged out with fear.  He’d underestimated Luigi.

              “At least you tried,” Luigi said consolingly as he released the arm he broke.  Then, he grabbed Manny by his shirt collar and used the knife to pluck out his left eye, followed by his right eye.  As an insult to injury, he cut a nice line into the tender skin of the empty, bloody eye sockets.  Manny screamed blue murder as Luigi dragged him to the desk and deposited him onto his chair.

              “Imagine if I found every woman you wined and dined,” said Luigi as he tied Manny to the chair.  “Imagine if I told them what you and your brothers liked to do to me.  They wouldn’t think you were hot stuff then.  And they won’t think you’re hot stuff now.”

              He grabbed the penknife Manny had dropped and then stuck it into the wound in his shoulder, stretching it.  After he plucked it out, he inserted his index finger into the wound and repeatedly twisted it.

              “What do you want from me?” Manny barked.

              “Answers,” replied Luigi.

              “Burn in the flames, bean pole!” defied Manny.  “I’ll tell you nothing!”

              “I know,” said Luigi, jamming the penknife as deep as it would go into Manny’s other shoulder before opening the bicep wound even more, “but at this rate, you’ll realize that the sooner you spill, the sooner I’ll be out of your hair.”  He used the pocket knife to carve across Manny’s stomach and the penknife to tear into both of his forearms.

              “How long has this operation been going?”  Slash.  “Was Sakurai in the know from the beginning?”  Slash.  Stab.  “Did he approve when you sent Stuart to the tournaments to try and ruin me?”  Slash.  Slash.  Stab.  “Was Stuart in on Operation Ballot Box before then?”  Stab.  Stab.  “Did you allow Spike Plaxwell to take the harassment as far as he had?  Did you partake in it also?”  Stab.  Slash.  Stab.  Slash.  “Have you or your brothers ever put your hands on Daisy or tried to put your hands on her?  Have you?”

              Slash.  Slash.  Stab.  Stab.  Slash.

              This had to be killing Manny Bennigan.

              “Not willing to sing?” Luigi asked nonchalantly.  “No matter.  I’ll get the truth.  And whatever else you’re hiding—I’ll get it out, too.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              “So, you’re saying that he found out everything?” asked Crazy Hand.

              Vincent “Vince” Bennigan, the eldest Bennigan Brother, nodded gravely.  “Somehow, he found out where we were hiding and ambushed us.  He’s caused a lot of devastation so far.  And—I think he got Shane.  He’s starting to leave more of us alive, though.”

              “How else do you think he got wind of your location and all of your plans?” asked Crazy.  “A betrayer among you.  Or betrayers, for that matter.”

              “Yes, I noticed people starting to leave about thirty minutes prior to Luigi storming the place,” said Vincent.  “All of them wore green berets.”  He gasped.  “Crazy, do you think…?”

              “Think?  I know for a fact that they were moles on Luigi’s side!” said Crazy.  “They were from Luigi fan clubs across the country!  There are even whistle blowers and conspiracy theorists on his side!”

              “My,” was all Vince had to say.

              “It was Spike’s fiancée, whose name I won’t mention, who ratted most of this operation out to Luigi,” Crazy Hand went on.  “His roommate, Evan Vidad, and his wife, Mandy, exposed the anti-Luigi website, and by extension, Project Nerf and Operation Ballot Box.  And Peach, because she was punished for nearly beating me to a pulp, exposed Roy and Falco’s involvement in both schemes!  What’s more, Mr. and Mrs. Vidad are part of the whistle-blowing network.  I have letters, podcasts, video calls, chat messages—everything under the sun to prove it.”

              “So—they outed our location to him,” reasoned Vince.

              “With some help,” shrugged Crazy.  “They also brought down the Pianta chief and our operations on Isle Delfino.”

              “They were right under our noses this whole time,” murmured Vince.  “Well—I hear that they own a restaurant.  It would be a shame if _something_ happened to it.  A health code violation, for instance.”

              “What’s coming to those tattletales is worse than a health code violation,” smiled Crazy.

              “And that is…”

              Crazy winked.  “You’ll see.  And so will Mr. and Mrs. Vidad.”

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              “Last chance, Manny,” warned Luigi.  For a little over two hours, he’d persuaded the middle Bennigan Brother to give up the important details of the cyberbullying and harassing network.  But Manny was true to his word and wouldn’t utter a syllable, even after Luigi started using his fists on him and later divested him of his clothes.  Wrists and ankles bound and covered in gashes and bruises, Manny glared defiantly at Luigi, refusing to answer the questions aggressively hurled at him.

              “I’ll make you a deal—tell me everything you know, and I won’t lay a finger on Vince or Sakurai.  I’ll just plunge them into financial ruin.”

              “You lying piece of…” Manny was cut off by a fist to his already broken face, causing him to slump over the chair he was still tied to.  “Alright!  Fine!  You win!” he croaked.

              “Well?”

              “Back in the good old days, when you accepted your role as Player Two, everyone was happy.  Then, you decided to get involved in sports and fighting tournaments, and that rubbed us all the wrong way.  The first Smash wasn’t so bad, since you were ranked last, but as you got your own adventures and started having conniptions about how sick and tired you were of being Mario’s shadow and that it was your turn to shine—we made it our mission to break you.  So, Vince, Shane, Stuart and I started getting this group together to remind you of what you are.  Remember the tomatoes and stuff hurled at you during the first tournament?  That was us.  Remember that time when your kart malfunctioned during a race?  Our idea.  And look hard enough, and you’ll find videos of your foil—Waluigi, is it?—doing things like tying your shoelaces together.  Man, we were all in a funk during your year, and when it ended, we all celebrated in the streets.  And was Daddy Sakurai involved in this mess?  You can bet your green hat he was.  He lives for trolling people, and you’re the best person for anyone to troll.  He was more than happy to get on board the plot to nerf you and lock your Princess out of Smash.  And who knows?  Maybe he earned the favor of another higher power.”

              “What are you saying?”

              “You’d like to know,” snickered Manny.

              “I am _not_ playing your little games,” snapped Luigi, pressing a fiery finger against Manny’s wounded skin.  “Either you tell me now, or I’ll extract it from them myself!”

              “Well, then, good luck with that, because I’m not saying another word!” Manny snapped back.

              “Of course, you’d make me do more work,” sighed Luigi.  “Ah, well.  Try not to let this haunt you for the rest of your days, okay?”

              And with that, Luigi grabbed the penknife and took his time cutting off Manny’s fingers and toes.  Blood jetted out of ten stumps in his hands and collected in a pool from ten stumps in his feet.  Luigi cleaned both knives and took them with him, but not before snipping off a lock of Manny’s hair “for luck”.  As a final parting gift, Luigi used his fire to sterilize the scissors and then cleanly sliced off Manny’s—nuggets.  Manny screamed so long and so loud that the glass windows rattled.  Now fully finished, Luigi smirked at him.

              “Have a nice life.  Or not,” he hissed before placing the—nuggets—into a jar and marching out of the office, leaving Manny in the worst agony imaginable.

              On his way to Shane’s office, Luigi’s phone went crazy.  He paused, leaned against a wall, and checked it.

              It was an email from Peach.

              “What does she have for me now?” he wondered aloud as he opened the email.

              What he saw made his blood run cold and his chest constrict.  Slowly, he sank to his knees and closed his eyes, willing the colors to stop swimming in his head.  His pulse pounded his Adam’s apple, and his heart pounded his ribcage.  His lungs went into overdrive, pulling in gallons of air.  He’d suspected this for a while, but seeing proof still hit him hard.  Just like seeing that list in 1999 after Mario warned him that he was “ranked low”.  At least this time, no lies by omission were told.

              His eyes snapped open.  He rose to his feet, and put his phone away.  His fists clenched.  He whipped his gaze toward Vince’s office, where he heard not one but two voices.  And he growled out two words.

              “ _Crazy Hand_.”

 


	68. Interlude: Unmasked

**_Crazy Hand’s POV_ **

**I bet you’re all just sitting there with mouths agape over the latest curveball the author has thrown at you.**

**I bet you’re all thinking, “Crazy Hand?  Who would’ve thought that?”**

**That I, the assistant master of ceremonies for these tournaments, could be embroiled in a plot against one of the Smashers sounds ludicrous, but alas, it’s true.**

**But—it looks like the cat’s out of the bag now, so I might as well go ahead and say it.**

  1. **Hate.  That.  Man.  In.  Green.**



**Here’s why—**

**It started long after Melee.  At first, I liked Luigi.  He seemed alright about being the second player, he accepted it as his destiny, he was timid and always tucked in his shell and everything was in its proper place.**

**But not for long.**

**Turns out, he hadn’t been too happy about where the 1999 tier list had placed him.  And he wasn’t too shy to express it in his matches back then.  I watched replays of those matches along with his current ones—and as he came out on top over nobles and kings and fearsome foes, that little green monster—envy—came knocking on my door.**

**My God, I was jealous!  A lowly plumber, and a coward at that, possessing so much might!  My brother and I are immortal.  Immortal, I tell you!  And yet this klutzy mortal can stand up to us?  Man, I’ll never forget the first time he challenged us.  We gave it our all, but even after taking our hefty blows, he always got up and lashed back.  To say the least, I was psychologically disturbed by the look in his eyes.  Defiant.  Determined.  Barely any fear at all.  I am the Hand of Destruction.  Many have trembled before me at my power.  But this _plumber_ had the audacity to challenge that power!  MH seemed okay with that, impressed even, but I was seeing red.  A common plumber brought me down!  But as Melee’s co-host, I could easily hold in those thoughts.  I bided my time, smiling at Luigi and being nice-y-nice to him and secretly hoping that something—someone—would remind him of what he was—a nobody.**

**2008 rolled around.  The Smashers once again assembled to duke it out in Brawl.  And that was when Tabuu and his Subspace Army decided to pay us an unfriendly visit.  Before you ask, I did _not_ engineer that kerfuffle, as numerous pro-Luigi conspiracy theorists want you to believe.  But I _did_ secretly hope that Blue Boy would be too much for Luigi—that he’d fail.  Fall.  Die trying.  Despite everything he’d done, eventually, they’d all would hate him.**

**Ha.  Fat chance!  Luigi was the last Smasher standing that day, the one who landed the finishing strike on Tabuu.  His popularity skyrocketed after the incident, MH commending him for his courage.  He’d broken free from the Player Two mold, and there was nothing I could do about it—or so I thought.**

**You see, between Melee and Brawl, I began a secret correspondence with those who despised that green plumber with a passion.  Ryan Gonzales.  Tyler Hull.  Blaine, Adam, Jim and David.  Raymond Sinclair.  Yes, _that_ Raymond Sinclair, who enjoyed torturing Luigi in the locker room.  And the four masterminds who brought the bullies together—the Bennigan Brothers.**

**I couldn’t actively participate in the harassment, but I reasoned that maybe—just maybe—I could manipulate the system in Smash to make Luigi’s life a smidge less tolerable.  Increase his suffering by small increments, up to the point he’d beg MH for a bailout.  Without the tournaments to fan that fire, he’d once again fall into the Player Two slot, Mario would be the primary hero, and the status quo would be restored.**

**That being said, I patiently waited out the Year of Luigi business, and in January 2014, I took a secret business trip to New York, where I convinced the suits that it was time for Luigi’s year to end.  There would be no sugar-coating or forewarning.  Just when he least expected it, boom.  His fanfare would disappear in the blink of an eye.  Needless to say, March 18, 2014 was one of the best days of my life.**

**Unfortunately, however, Luigi was now on the starting roster and was selected to represent the Mario universe at a combo exhibition.  Then, we had the Death Stare business that summer.  I couldn’t afford to implement my plan then!  So, as the brand-new, self-confident, outgoing and feisty Luigi took the fourth Smash tourney by storm, I waited—and waited—and waited.**

**Finally, in the spring of 2015, opportunity knocked.  Master Hand welcomed Stuart, the second-youngest Bennigan, to Smash.  I knew almost instantly that he was out to cause distress for Luigi.  And boy, he did!  The Smasher of the Month title was up for grabs, and Luigi was among those nominated.  Stuart shared my sentiments and brought them up the second MH announced L as a nominee.**

**Stuart successfully got under Luigi’s skin, to the point he challenged him to a fight.  But Stu was clever.  He summoned his mother and cried a river to MH, who bought the act like the gullible glove he is!  In short, my bro snatched the nomination from Luigi’s gloved fingers and gave it to Stu, and that plumber was disgracefully suspended until further notice.**

**I watched gleefully as Stu piled even more torment upon Luigi, getting his friends suspended right along with him!  It would’ve ended there, if it weren’t for E. Gadd’s surprise visit.  After the Professor left, Luigi marched out to that stadium and engaged Stu in an all-out brawl.  And we all know what happened after that, don’t we?  MH got the skinny about Stu’s manipulations and downgraded Luigi’s punishment, but in L’s twisted mind, he didn’t deserve to be punished at all.  Their difference in opinion culminated in a brief yet explosive falling-out.  Luigi threw expensive vases and other object at MH, and later, MH floated to Luigi’s room to try and talk to him, only to wind up further reaming him out.  Luigi sassed him back, and things quickly got physical—but both parties pulled themselves together before serious injuries could be inflicted.**

**At long glorious last, my chance had come!  MH laid his weary head on my shoulder, and by saying the right words, I got him to erupt into a memorable tirade against the plumber.  We were outside the Training Room, where Luigi was pounding Sandbags to his heart’s content, and he overheard everything.  Of course, I didn’t count on Luigi signing up for 3 Minute Smash to stick it to MH and thus wind up in the hospital.  But as long as discord existed between him and my beloved bro—**

**Now was my chance.  I could finally implement my master plan and then call it an act of revenge for Luigi aggravating my bro.  As I noticed his stats improving, the idea began to grow in me.  Why throw him out when I could send him back to the bottom where he belonged?  And was it just coincidence that the remaining Bennigan Bros were hammering out a plot to do just that?  I think not!**

**Initially, I wanted to be a part of Project Nerf, but then I realized that it was too risky.  Instead, I contributed from the side, serving as an adviser and a financier.  Under a pen name, I wrote several dissertations on the matter and sent them to the conspirators.  I surfed the anti-Luigi website and created an account on the anti-Luigi blog, where I found hardcore haters to discuss the project with.  The majority of them were generously fed and housed at my expense.  While MH listened to the ranting from the salty masses, I sat back and smirked, knowing that once this bomb was dropped, I’d be completely beyond suspicion!**

**I was so happy when MH met with Sakurai to discuss the new patch.  Falco was so sweet, pointing our gaming lord and savior in my bro’s direction.  With help from yours truly, Daddy Sakurai convinced my bro that Luigi was insanely broken, and that a nerf was necessary to balance him out.  Other changes were applied to cover our tracks.  And on the night before the nerf, when the patch notes were sent to MH’s office, I even managed to convince Master Core, my dear old dad, to sign off on it!**

**6:12 a.m. on September 30, 2015 was another best moment in my life, for that was the moment I heard Luigi’s exclamations of disbelief and outrage.  That nerf on his down throw ought to give him something to think about!  He wasn’t so high and mighty anymore, his lost combos making him a sitting duck for FG scrubs out for revenge!  Too bad the nerf made him think of new combos.  That’s the way life goes, I guess.**

**But you know what would really crush him?  His precious Daisy, locked out of Smash.  I actually wrote a lengthy letter to the suits at Nintendo, asking them to ban Daisy from the Smash Ballot.  Sakurai and Co. had a better idea—give Luigi false hope and then snatch it away at the last second!  While I didn’t participate in Operation Ballot Box, I secretly crossed my fingers that Daisy wouldn’t win.  Personally, I hoped Waluigi would make it in so he could make L more miserable, but as long as Daisy was rejected, Bayonetta was fine with me!**

**I was a little worried when he confronted MH, MC and me over us knowing in advance, but I relaxed when I figured out that my secret was still safe.  Then, bit by bit, he began to uncover the bullying network organized by the Bennigan Bros, slowly working his way to the top dogs.  When Spike was brought down, with help from his mutinous fiancée, I knew I had to step in.  So, I pulled some strings and had his conviction overturned.  And as you know, Luigi stormed into the office to express his displeasure over it.  Forgive me, readers, but I totally lost it that morning, and I probably gave myself away!  Then, he cried to Mario and Peach about it, and the latter was so angry that she paid me a little—visit—to discuss the matter.  A blessing in disguise, since I finally had an excuse to dust an abandoned plot off the shelves to teach the lovely Mushroom Princess a little lesson!  I’m still thinking of a way to punish Mario after he went off on me, but my little gift to Peach is hurting him as well as her, so I guess that’ll do for now.**

**So, there you have it.  The sordid truth about me, the Hand of Destruction.  Now that Luigi knows the truth about his down throw nerf and Daisy’s rejection, my association with his tormentors is in grave danger of being exposed.  I’ve taken refuge in Vincent Bennigan’s office, where we’re plotting a way to escape and to punish these moles and whistle-blowers for exposing us.  Time is fast escaping us.  Manny screams.  A door slams.  Footsteps come towards the office.**

**A voice angrily mutters my name.**

**I know that voice!**

**But before I can warn Vince, the office door blows open—**


	69. Condemned

              Vincent and Crazy Hand nearly jumped out of their skins as the office door crashed open.  Revealing a nearly purple-faced Luigi.  His fists were clenched so tightly that he drew blood.  His eyes held more fury in them than on the day he confronted the final bosses over knowing of Daisy’s rejection in advance.  His chest heaved mightily.  And he was going to explode any minute.

              “L—I can explain…” Crazy Hand started.

              “It was you,” Luigi cut him off, calmly, in a low voice.  “All this time, it was you.”

              “What are you talking about?” demanded Vincent.

              “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” said Luigi, still in a calm voice, advancing on the pair.  “Crazy Hand had it in for me since Melee, didn’t he?  He was just biding his time until I had a falling out with Master, wasn’t he?”

              “It’s not what you think!” objected Crazy.

              “It isn’t?” retorted Luigi.  “You explained everything quite clearly to the readers; yet you try to deny it in front of me?  It’s no use, Crazy.  Princess Peach and Mario just sent me proof.”

              Crazy and Vince started to sweat.

              “The checks you wrote out to the people who made me miserable.  The financial contributions you made to Project Nerf.  The dissertations you wrote, denouncing my down throw.  The trip you made to convince the suits at Nintendo to abruptly end my year.  Your drunken rant, wishing that Tabuu had killed me.  The interview in which you said that Daisy was better off being Tatanga’s concubine.  I know everything now.”  As he spoke, Luigi reached the desk separating him from Crazy and Vince and gripped the edges, ominously leaning forward.

              “L, I was just acting out!  I was upset because you aggravated my brother so much!” defended Crazy.

              “That was part of your plan, too!  To pass your scheming off as revenge for my quarrel with Master Hand!  Well, I’m not buying it, and neither are the readers!  A good rule of thumb—if you’re gonna gloat to the readers, try to make sure that the author doesn’t have me lurking in the scene and listening in!”

              Vince was nearly as white as a sheet.

              “It was you,” continued Luigi, “who arranged for Spike’s conviction to be overturned, and then played dumb about it.  It was you who orchestrated the attack on the Smash Mansion.  It was you who gave up Cerena’s location to her family’s lawyer.  You wrote a letter to Nintendo asking them to _ban_ Daisy from the Smash Ballot.  It was you who suggested ‘tweaking’ me so I wouldn’t enjoy myself in Smash so much.  The nerf on Peach was just a revamp of a plot you engineered earlier.  And it was you who set Master off into ranting that I didn’t belong here.”

              “Luigi, I assure you, my intentions were strictly honorable,” said Crazy.

              “Honorable?  Conspiring to have misfortune after misfortune befall me to the point I wanted out of Smash was honorable to you?  Secretly befriending my worst tormentors—tell me, did you _encourage_ their behavior?  The Hell I was trapped in with Raymond in the locker room?  The group beatings at the hands of David, Jim, Adam and Blaine?  The abuse from Tyler and Ryan?  The pranksters I dealt with in later years?  You encouraged all of that, didn’t you?  Didn’t you?!”

              “Yes!” barked Crazy.  “I did.  And I was also behind Stuart getting into Smash, knowing what he’d do to you.”

              “You—didn’t think I was worthy of being Smasher of the Month?” gasped Luigi.

              “Not in the least bit,” said Crazy.

              “The Smashers and I—we trusted you!” balked Luigi, his eyes filling with tears.  “How could you do this?  Why would you want to hurt me?  I did nothing to you!”

              “In my opinion, you were getting more attention than you were worth!” huffed Crazy.

              “You’re the Hand of Destruction, all right,” snapped Luigi.  “You destroyed my self-esteem and tried to destroy my life!  Well, I’m not gonna let you!”

              “And what are you gonna do about it?” Vince piped up.  “You must’ve forgotten Crazy Hand’s godlike power.”

              “I’ve beaten him countless times before,” Luigi shot back, “and I’ll beat him again, even if it kills me!”

              “We’ll see about that,” said Vince as he picked up the phone.  “Hello, security?”

              Quicker than lightning, Luigi pressed the “hang-up” button.  “Not this time, Vince,” he hissed before tearing the phone from its wiring and hurling it against the wall.

              “Vince, run!” screamed Crazy as he dove at Luigi.  “I’ll hold him off!”

              “I will not leave you!” vowed Vince.

              “Spare the melodramatics and GO!” boomed Crazy, grabbing Luigi in tight fingers and squeezing like a stress ball.

              Vince took several steps back, and then ran for the door and yanked on it.  “It’s jammed!” he cried.  “God help us!”

              Luigi had broken free from Crazy Hand and now stood behind him.  “You didn’t actually think I was gonna let you get away, did you?”

              Vince whirled, fists raised, but he was too late.  Luigi’s forward smash knocked him against the door, where he sagged, the man in green continuing to use him as a punching bag.  Finally, Luigi grabbed Vince and dragged him back to his desk, clearing it away with a single sweep of his arm and throwing the eldest Bennigan Brother onto it.

              “I’m going to do to you what I did to your brothers—only worse!” Luigi promised, tearing open his dress shirt and searing his upper body with fire.

              “Get away from him!” ordered Crazy Hand, making a fist and flying toward him.

              Luigi rolled out of the way, and Crazy plowed into Vincent instead.  Vince howled in agony as the giant fist crushed his ribs.

              “Oops.  Watch the friendly fire, Crazy,” said Luigi.

              Crazy unstuck himself from his friend and faced Luigi.  “You’ll regret this day!” he vowed.

              “So will you,” Luigi said evenly.

              And with that, they charged toward each other.

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              “And—I guess that’s everything,” said Princess Peach as she sat in Master Hand’s office with Mario by her side.

              “Wow,” breathed Master as he went through the manila folder Peach had delivered to him.  “For fifteen years, he was after Luigi.  My own brother wanted to hurt Luigi.  He had me fooled from the very beginning.”

              “Don’t take it so hard; we _all_ were fooled,” Mario said consolingly.  “It was only after his outburst toward Luigi that Peachy and I expected something.”

              The Mushroom Princess and her plumber had decided to make their final move against Crazy Hand, albeit this wasn’t the initial plan.  The Hand of Destruction was to be taken down many pegs and tortured, blackmailed even, before they played their ultimate trump card.  But once they unearthed plots against Evan, Mandy, Cerena, Val, Evelyn and the rest of the whistle-blowers, as well their own lives, they knew that toying with him was out of the question.  The sooner Master dealt with his brother, the more likely they all would emerge from this ordeal unscathed.

              “This explains everything,” said Master, “and by bringing this to my attention, you may have exposed one of the biggest links of this bullying network.  I owe both of you a debt of gratitude.”

              “We’re just doing our job, looking out for those we love,” Peach said quietly as she and Mario stood to leave.

              “Wait a minute,” said Master.

              “Yes?” asked Mario.

              Master took a deep breath.  “I’m probably gonna regret this later,” he said, “but effective immediately, you two are un-suspended.  You may resume fighting in matches this afternoon.  Truly, standing up to the Hand of Destruction is an act of bravery.”

              Peach smiled, a feeling of vindication washing over her.  “Thank you, Master Hand,” she said.

              “Yeah.  Thanks,” echoed Mario.

              “However, I still do not condone the way you handled the situation,” Master said sternly.

              “I knew you’d say that,” said Peach.

              “I’ll see what I can do about that nerf on you, though,” added Master.

              “We trust you, Master Hand,” said Mario.

              The two beamed at Master Hand, shook his index finger and walked out of the office, knowing that at least _some_ of this had been rectified.

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              Crazy Hand was as powerful by himself than he was with Master Hand.  However, without his twin backing him up, his attacks were less effective.  He threw his rising platforms at Luigi, but without Master to cause a distraction, the man in green easily evaded them.  He settled for coupling the platforms with giant balls of energy and pink plasma rods, but it still wasn’t as effective as Master Hand’s traps.  But unlike Master, Crazy’s attacks were unpredictable.  This unpredictability gave him an advantage over Luigi, at least for a while.  He’d swoop in with a different attack than what Luigi anticipated.  Squeezing with ungodly power in his palm.  Tossing him around like a ragdoll.  Picking him up and slamming him into the ground and against walls, over and over.  Flailing on the ground, entangling him in writhing digits.  Employing the standard punching, swiping, flying and kicking attacks he shared with Master.  He hoped that he’d give Vincent time to flee, but the man was stubborn, struggling up from the desk and looking for something—anything—to assist him.

              But just like the previous times, Luigi withstood all of Crazy Hand’s mighty blows.  His fists blazed bright green as he shot them with unspeakable power into the glove.  He laid Smash attacks on the palm, the wrists and the carpals.  He brutally drilled into the knuckles and fingers with his d-air or his Cyclone.  He countered the energy blasts and bomb showers with fireballs and preferred to dodge rather than to shield.  So, Crazy was tasked into tricking Luigi into shielding, so he could break the shield and pounce on him while he was vulnerable.

              Crazy tore gashes in space, creating powerful winds which sucked Luigi right into the glove’s clutches!  The Hand battered him relentlessly and then used his palm to squash him hard onto the desk.  Luigi kicked him and got up, this time assaulting from the air.  Crazy couldn’t protect himself from the hail of karate chops and backflip kicks.  Nor could he evade the d-air spike which led into an angry combo on the ground.  The fabric of Crazy’s glove had begun to singe and tear, bits of skin and dribbles of blood becoming visible.  He was bruised and aching everywhere.  Yet so was Luigi.  There was blood fountaining from his nose and mouth and from lacerations all over his face and body.  He was raw and throbbing and swollen.  He could barely see out of one eye.  He was breathing heavily.  But he replayed Crazy’s little tirade against him that morning.  He replayed Stuart trampling on his nomination and getting him into trouble.  He replayed the harsh exchanges with Master Hand in the wake of Stuart’s stunt.  He replayed everything Blaine, Jim, Adam, David, Tyler, Ryan, Raymond, Teddy, Spencer and everyone else from the past and present did to him.  He replayed the moment the kindly Mii gave him the notes for patch 1.1.1.  He replayed the moment he saw his nerf in print and the mockery spurred from it.  He replayed Falco’s snide words.  Pittoo’s snide words.  He replayed the Nintendo Direct presentation and the pain in Daisy’s face and voice, and then the Miiverse posts, and then Marth and Mewtwo and Kuro and Kyle and then—and then—imagining Crazy Hand sitting back and _laughing_.

              He was behind it all _this entire time_!

              Azure pupils burned with hatred.  Luigi darted back in and slammed Crazy harder than ever before, fighting to maintain command over his breathing and his emotions.  Crazy’s actions were infuriating, but he still needed to focus, especially since he was better off letting his tormentors live from now on.  He converted the resentment into glorious misfires of his Green Missile, plowing hard into Crazy’s fingers and snapping them.  Crazy winced and shook himself out, jerking back from the plumber as he did.  But Luigi pursued him, his shouting and hollering leaving nothing to the imagination.  Green and white encircled his body like an aura, his eyes dilated, sweat rolling down his battered face.  The impact from his blows rattled the office.  Crazy could feel his strength sapping.  But he couldn’t give up.  If Luigi returned to the Smash realm and told Master Hand, then it was game over for the Hand of Destruction.  He had to do what he had to do to protect his reputation.

              Meanwhile, Vince had grabbed a metal bar, a nice and long metal bar which could really hurt if in the right hands.  A sly grin spread onto his face as he tiptoed toward Luigi, still fully engaged with Crazy Hand.  Both were on their last legs, and Vince reasoned that with this distraction, the two of him could take care of that plumber in no time!

              Now the appropriate distance from Luigi, Vince brought the bar up to his shoulder.

              And then he swung.

              CLANG!

              Inches from being incapacitated, Luigi’s nightstick blocked the blow.  He then executed a Cyclone, knocking away both Vince and Crazy.

              “Why, Vince—I was just getting to you,” Luigi said sweetly as Vince hopped back up, bar in hand.

              The eldest Bennigan lunged and swung again, but again, Luigi was ready for him with the nightstick.  Over and over, the two melee weapons clashed as they sought flesh and bone.  But Luigi was agile and had great reflexes.  Plus, his attacks were well thought out, while Vince was fueled by desperation, swinging wildly.  Ignoring the pain from his battle with Crazy Hand, Luigi engaged Vince, starting off by deflecting the heavier blows from the pole and testing his nightstick’s durability.  The large office space was perfect, as the man in green could show off his athleticism and acrobatic ability.  But as Luigi continued to deftly handle the nightstick and prevent the heavy bar from making contact with him, he slowly began to go on the offensive, getting some hard blows to the shoulders and elbows before attacking the legs and finally the stomach and sides, eventually backing Vince against a wall and doubling the strength of his swings, this time concentrating on the torso and chest.  Finally, he drove the end of the nightstick into the center of his chest and then his groin, doubling him over.

              With Vince temporarily down, Luigi marched back toward Crazy, who fired a large, blue-green ball of energy at him.  Coolly, the green-clad plumber hit the projectile with the nightstick like a baseball bat, knocking it into its sender.  Crazy Hand screamed in pain before crashing hard onto his back.

              His fingers twitched as Luigi straddled him, Shane’s pocket knife in hand.  Without a word of introduction, he stuck the knife into Crazy’s palm and began to tear through the flesh.  Dark, thick blood began squirting out of the wounds, yet Crazy couldn’t move; the energy blast had temporarily paralyzed him.  He could only scream pathetically as the man in green cut all over him, making sure to hit the right nerves.  Luigi wasn’t worried about the major areas, since his adversary couldn’t die.  Master Core would simply heal him—after giving him a nice, strong lecture, hopefully!

              A bloody message began to take shape on the white palm.  I AM A FILTHY, LYING TRAITOR.  CURSE ME.

              Pulling out a roll of duct tape, Luigi headed back toward Vincent.  He’d make him nice and comfy first, and then he’d finish teaching Crazy Hand a lesson.

              He reached Vince and kicked him onto his back, and then kicked him several more times before using the tape to secure him to the wall and keep him from looking away.  A few peels of masking tape kept his eyes open.  Once the eldest Bennigan was in place, Luigi pulled the nightstick back out and commenced to plunge it repeatedly into Crazy’s fingers, starting with the thumb and making sure the joints of each finger were completely separated before viciously grinding into the bone.  After that, he effortlessly shoved him onto his other side, which he branded with fire until the glove had been burned off.  The exposed, delicate flesh then fell victim to a whole bottle of concentrated hydroxide solution.  During that part, Vince screamed curses at Luigi, who retaliated at once by squirting another caustic substance all over him.  He stood back and watched as skin and glove melted away from both of his tormentors.

              “Now, they’ll all see you for the monsters that you are,” he spat.

              Though MC would be able to heal Crazy Hand, the acid and the knife would leave some pretty ugly scars behind.  And each time Crazy looked at those scars, he’d be reminded.  Of Luigi.

               Finally, he went to Vince and ripped his pants off, using Manny’s penknife to slice down each leg and stab through each kneecap.  He cut off his briefs.  Originally, he planned to use just a fiery finger, but he reasoned that he deserved more pain for what he’d wrought.  Looking straight into Vince’s eyes, he wrenched the man’s legs open and held up his fist, forcing him to watch as it alighted with green, white-flecked flames.

              “Please,” begged Vince.  “Please, don’t do that to me!”

              “That’s what I said to many a bully,” Luigi stated passively before shoving the fist in as hard as he could.

              Vincent Bennigan screamed and screamed as he was burned from the inside out.

 

             


	70. No Escape, No Mercy

              Reggie, Daddy Sakurai’s right-hand man, paced his office, his mind awhirl.  Via the security monitors, he’d witnessed the destruction Luigi had wreaked upon the subordinates with horror.  The man had exercised no restraint, and those left alive were either permanently paralyzed, mutilated or mangled in some way.  Now that he’d taken down the Bennigan Brothers, there was no question that he was coming for Daddy Sakurai next.

              “I’ll protect you…” he murmured, taking off his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves.  He stepped out of the safety of his office and made his way down the hall.

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              Inside and out, Vincent Bennigan was covered in burns, blisters and bruises.  Vainly, he called out to Luigi for mercy, but it only made him pound his fiery fist deeper and harder inside of him.  Crazy Hand dragged himself across the floor, striving to get Luigi away from Vincent, but his efforts grew futile as the energy drained from him.  Finally, the plumber gave one last thrust with his fist, as deep as he could go, and then sadistically twisted his arm, making Vince scream like a stuck pig.   He sobbed as Luigi finally pulled his fist away, but his relief was short-lived.

              “Don’t worry,” he said, panting slightly from exertion.  “I’ll allow you two to keep your wicked lives.  But that’s the least of your problems.”

              After cutting Vince loose from his restraints, he straddled him, the penknife gleaming in the sun, and pressed it against the flesh burned from fire and caustic liquid before starting to cut.

              “Come to think of it, maybe I should do this to your other siblings, too,” Luigi said nonchalantly as he shamelessly lacerated the burnt skin.

              Vince sobbed, not having the heart to fight back.  Luigi grabbed his scalp and forced him to watch each letter being carved deep into his body.

              MY BROTHER WAS A DIRTY PIG.

              “I want everyone you encounter to know what Stuart did to me,” explained Luigi as he put the finishing touches on his artwork.  “How he got me in trouble.  How he set off tensions between me and Master Hand.  How he set the stage for Crazy’s diabolical plan.”

              Below the message, he carved the letter L, a few inches away from the navel.  Then, he kicked the daylights out of Vince and stepped away from him.

              “And as for you…” he said, glaring at Crazy Hand.

              “No!  Please!  You’ve done enough!” wailed Crazy.

              “Have I?” asked Luigi, getting astride his back.

              He cleaned the penknife and sterilized it before digging it into Crazy Hand’s burnt back.  The Hand of Destruction roared and tried to buck Luigi off, to no avail.  The slashes hurt worse than the burns, and it didn’t help that the knife was glowing hot.  Luigi whistled a mellow tune as he worked, going for areas with the most burns or scabbing.

              “You’re gonna cry to Master Hand about what I did, but at least he’ll always see my side of the tale,” he said softly, illustrating his message with the Smash symbol carved into the center of Crazy’s back.  He licked off some of the blood before easing off the glove.

              LUIGI WAS HERE, read the message on Crazy’s back.

              “What did you do to me?” whimpered Crazy.

              “Everything you deserved,” Luigi smartly responded, kneeling over Vince and licking the tears from his face.  “You have yourselves a nice day, gentlemen.”

              And with that, Luigi saw himself out of the office.  Leaving Vince and Crazy Hand.

              To suffer.

              To think about him.

              To bleed.

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              Reggie sprinted down the corridor, trying to ignore the men writhing in pools of blood and cursing the day Luigi was born.  He had to intercept that man in green before he got to Sakurai!

              “Where’d he go?” he asked each wounded minion he came across.

              They all pointed in conflicting directions.  Reggie decided to trust his gut and head in the direction of Sakurai’s office.  Praying he wasn’t too late.

              “Where on Earth could he be?” he muttered.

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              “No more!” Manny pled weakly as Luigi ventured back into his office, penknife in hand.

              Luigi smiled.  “This won’t take too long,” he assured him, “but it’s going to be _extremely_ painful.”

              Gently, he pushed Manny onto his back and dragged the penknife roughly across already wounded flesh, going for as many old wounds as he could.

              “You want to be remembered, don’t you?” Luigi asked softly.  “Well, don’t worry.  They’ll remember you.  I’ll make sure of it.”

              Manny writhed and shrieked like a banshee, more of his blood oozing onto the floor, as Luigi connected the old slashes and stabs to form a message.  When he was finished, he dragged Manny before a mirror so he could see.

              MY BROTHER STU WAS A DIRTY PIG.

              “I did the same thing to Vince,” said Luigi, “but you and your brothers have always wanted matching tattoos, right?”

              He left Manny to gawk at himself in horror before paying Shane another visit.

              “What do you want now?” the youngest Bennigan demanded of the man in green.

              “To make sure you’ll always remember me,” replied Luigi, opening Shane’s shirt and deciding to use the pocket knife this time, since it belonged to Shane.

              “No!  I’ll do anything!”  But the plea fell on deaf ears as Luigi sliced away, making sure each slice was felt to the maximum.  Now, Shane’s torso was covered in blood, leaking into each letter and giving the message a scarier appearance.

              ALL MY BROTHERS ARE DIRTY, FILTHY PIGS!

              “Looks like you’ll have to bear the most scars,” said Luigi, dragging a mirror over so Shane could look.  “Sorry.”

              And he walked away without looking back.

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              Luigi stopped in the bathroom to clean himself up and tend to his own wounds as best as he could.  Once he looked presentable enough, he stepped confidently into the corridor, headed for the office of the mastermind himself.

              “And just where do you think you’re going?”

              Luigi turned, greeting the interloper with a smile.  “Reggie,” he said.  “Just the man I’m looking for.”

              “And you’re just the man _I’m_ looking for,” retorted Reggie, reaching out to grab the plumber’s arm.  “You’re coming with me.”

              Swiftly, Luigi pulled his arm from Reggie’s grasp and slammed a fist into his stomach.  When the right-hand man doubled over, Luigi speared his hand hard into his face.  Recovering, Reggie threw a hook at Luigi, but he ducked and threw a right cross, snapping his head back.  Reggie spun and kicked Luigi in the side, but Luigi threw a few fireballs and then sprang into action with a flying kick and a flurry of karate chops.  He then dropped low for a breakdance attack, knocking Reggie off his feet.  Reggie tried to roll away, but Luigi stopped him with a heel kick and pounced on him with massive elbow strikes.

              “I’d love to stay and chat longer,” said Luigi when he was finished, “but I have a walk-in appointment with your boss, if you know what I mean.”

              Reggie smashed him straight in the face, blood spraying onto the ceiling.  As Luigi toppled onto his back, Reggie got up and pinned the plumber’s legs to the floor so he couldn’t get away.

              “I don’t think so,” the man said determinedly as he launched his own fists into Luigi’s face.  The pinned man did what he could to ward off the sudden attack, but with Reggie’s speed and power, the man in green had met his match.

              But he wasn’t about to give up.  He jerked his upper body from the floor, sending a headbutt into his assailant.  Reggie fell over, allowing Luigi to leap to his feet, fists up, reorienting himself.  His opponent kicked from the ground, but Luigi sidestepped and lashed out with a swift roundhouse kick to the jaw.  Blood poured out of Reggie’s mouth, but he hopped up and engaged the plumber once again with his strong fists.  But Luigi decided that with Reggie, it was time to put his old boxing skills into action.  Ducking, dodging, parrying and countering.  His moves in Smash took the cake, but he always made sure to keep his boxing skills sharp.  As soon as he began throwing the massive jabs, crosses, hooks, uppercuts and one-twos which would make Little Mac jealous, he found that he could better hold his own against Sakurai’s right-hand man.  Reggie’s body was ready, but so was Luigi’s!

              They maneuvered down the corridor and down the hallway, Luigi forcing his way toward Sakurai’s office despite Reggie’s best efforts.  Brutal, heavy punches were exchanged between both men, most of them hitting their mark but not deterring the two.  As the corridor narrowed slightly, they began using the walls for protection, some punches missing and striking the plaster instead.  Reggie’s mighty fist slammed into the wall just inches from Luigi’s head, sending his heart rate and respiration up for a few seconds.  Then, he calmly let loose with body blows to weaken his opponent before once again going for the face.  Bodies weaved and dodged from wall to wall, fists still flying and arms pumping.  But even though Reggie landed his most crippling blows on Luigi, he still got back up.  Breathing in measured whistles and whooshes, Luigi ignored the oncoming breathlessness and just kept going, seeing Sakurai’s office just up ahead.  He got in a plethora of devastating punches of his own, sending Reggie stumbling.  While the right-hand man focused on his foe’s face, the plumber focused on Reggie’s lower body and left the face alone, save for a few savage uppercuts.  He fluidly ducked under fists to the head or deflected them before retaliating harder and faster.  Both of their bodies were begging them to quit, but neither of them were willing to yield.  Luigi had to go through Hell to get to this point, and he certainly wasn’t about to let this man in a suit scare him off!  And Reggie—he’d give his life for his boss!

              Finally, Reggie put Luigi in a clinch and slammed him against the wall, sending punches into his midrib and chest.  Nimbly, Luigi jerked his body around, rotating the clinch so that Reggie was the one pinned.  _Now_ he could pound away at the face to his heart’s content.  Straight punches, hooks and uppercuts assailed Reggie from all directions.  After he was done with the face, Luigi tore away at Reggie’s frame one long, last time, stopping before his opponent lost consciousness and then smiling at him.

              “You fought well,” he said, catching his breath, “but to no avail.  You and your boss will have to face the music for what you did to me sooner or later.  So, it might as well be sooner.”

              On those words, he dragged his vanquished opponent the rest of the way to Daddy Sakurai’s office.

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              Seemingly oblivious to the chaos going on around him, our gaming lord and savior, Daddy Sakurai, sat behind his large desk, casually perusing through his social media pages.  Occasionally, he took a sip of coffee from a mug shaped like his face, allowing his mind to drift over other ways he could troll people.  Especially Luigi.

              Boy, Sakurai had a field day with that man in green in recent years!  First ending his special year without so much as a by-your-leave, then getting rid of that down throw of his and finally snuffing out his hopes of his precious Daisy getting into Smash for good.  He was pleasantly surprised to find an ally in Crazy Hand; that way, he could know precisely what made him tick in Smash.  Even as he was chatting with his social media friends, he was brainstorming another way he could get to that plumber in the tournaments.  What else could he take away from him?  Perhaps, as Crazy Hand said, he could knock him back to the bottom of the tier list.  Imagine what would happen if he did away with that fiery sweetspot to his Super Jump Punch—

              He was brought out of his thoughts by a polite knock on the door.  “Hello, Mr. Sakurai,” said a voice.  “May I please come in?”

              “Sure, since you asked so nicely,” Sakurai replied.

              Seconds later, the door seemed to explode from its hinges.  A sufficiently battered and bloodied Reggie sailed through the air and then crash-landed onto his desk, flattening his computer.

              Sakurai impassively looked up from the heap that was his right-hand man to see Luigi calmly stride through where the door used to be.

              “I’ve waited for this moment for a very long time, Mr. Sakurai,” he said, in the same polite manner.

 


	71. Showdown

**Yeah, I get it**  
**You're an outcast**  
 **Always under attack**  
 **Always coming in last**  
 **Bringing up the past**  
 **No one owes you anything**  
 **I think you need a shotgun blast**  
 **A kick in the ass**  
 **So paranoid**  
 **Watch your back!**

**Hola, here we go**

**Another lose cannon, gone bi-polar**  
**Slipped down, couldn't get much lower**  
 **Quicksand's got no sense of humor**  
 **I'm still laughing like hell**  
 **You think that the cryin' to me**  
 **Looking so sorry that I'm gonna believe**  
 **You've been infected by a social disease**  
**Well, then take your medicine**

 **I created the sound of madness**  
**Wrote the book on pain**  
 **Somehow I'm still here**  
 **To explain**  
 **That the darkest hour never comes in the night**  
 **You can sleep with a gun**  
 **When you gonna wake up and fight?**

 **I'm so sick of this tombstone mentality**  
**If there's an afterlife**  
**Then it'll set you free**  
 **But I'm not gonna part the seas**  
 **You're a self-fulfilling prophecy**  
 **You think that cryin' to me**  
 **Looking so sorry that I'm gonna believe**  
 **You've been infected by a social disease**  
 **Well, then take your medicine**

 **I created the sound of madness**  
**Wrote the book on pain**  
 **Somehow I'm still here**  
 **To explain**  
 **That the darkest hour never comes in the night**  
 **You can sleep with a gun**  
 **When you gonna wake up and fight?**

 **I created the sound of madness**  
**Wrote the book on pain**  
 **Somehow I'm still here**  
 **To explain**  
 **That the darkest hour never comes in the night**  
 **You can sleep with a gun**  
 **When you gonna wake up and fight?**

 **I created the sound of madness**  
**Wrote the book on pain**  
 **Somehow I'm still here**  
 **To explain**  
 **That the darkest hour never comes in the night**  
 **You can sleep with a gun**  
 **When you gonna wake up and fight?**

**When you gonna wake up and fight**

**When you gonna wake up and fight, for yourself?**

**When you gonna wake up and fight, for yourself?**

**When you gonna wake up and fight, for yourself?**

**\--Shinedown, “Sound of Madness”**

              “I’ve waited for this moment for a very long time, Mr. Sakurai.”

              In a painstakingly polite tone of voice, Luigi spoke those words, the words which would start a powerful confrontation between him and the trolliest troll to ever walk this earth.

              Daddy Sakurai.

              Standing there, at his desk, while Reggie moaned where he lay atop it, Luigi glared into Sakurai’s eyes and felt the volcanic waves of hate, fury and frustration crash into his body.  A light-green aura had begun to encircle him, his fists clenched tightly at his sides, his jaw was locked, and veins stood out on his temples and neck.  His blue eyes slowly began to dilate—and yet—his voice and mannerisms remained calm and courteous.

              “Hello, Luigi,” Sakurai replied with a smirk, just as polite.  “I was expecting you.  Please, have a seat.”

              Luigi plunked himself down into the chair Sakurai proffered him, his hands in his lap and his full attention on his adversary’s every move.

              “Would you like a drink, Luigi?  You sure could use one,” said Sakurai.

              “I’ll take a Mountain Dew,” Luigi replied, still in a calm, soft voice.  “Thanks.”

              Sakurai shrugged.  “Suit yourself.”  He stood from his desk and fetched two tumblers, and then walked over to a minifridge by the desk.  From the minifridge, he extracted a chilled bottle of Scotch and a can of Mountain Dew.  After fixing the drinks, he brought the tumblers back over and handed the glass of Mountain Dew to Luigi.

              Luigi took the glass and sipped it gently, feeling the cool, carbonated tang tingle his tongue and soothe his throat.  “I really like Mountain Dew,” he said nonchalantly, placing the glass on the desk before him.

              Sakurai grinned.  “Then I’m honored to serve Mountain Dew to you,” he said before tipping his glass of Scotch over, right onto Luigi’s hat.

              Luigi nearly jumped out of his seat as the brown liquid drenched his cap, his face and the rest of his clothes.

              “My apologies,” said Sakurai, fixing himself another Scotch and settling back in his big chair.  “Now, what may I do for you, Luigi?”

              “Why did you do it?” Luigi asked, his tone suggesting only mild curiosity.  “All this time, you encouraged these people to torment me.  Why?”

              “Because I can,” said Sakurai, putting on a trollface.

              “That’s a very vague answer,” said Luigi.  “Would you mind explaining that?”

              “In case you forgot, there would be no Smash tournament if not for me,” smirked Sakurai.  “It was me who agreed to finance it.  You should’ve been lucky you were allowed to participate to begin with.”

              “You think I wasn’t?” challenged Luigi.  “You’re wrong.  I was honored that I was accepted.”

              “I know, I know—because you wanted to break out of your Player Two slot.  The same old song,” Sakurai fake-yawned.  “Truth is, I could care less that Mario gets more fame than you.”

              “Oh yeah—you made that fact clear when you made the first tier list,” Luigi said casually, taking another sip of Mountain Dew.

              “Wasn’t that just delightful?” giggled Sakurai.  “Sticking you at the bottom without a care, so that the representatives of Nintendo’s other words would know what you are?”

              “Hardly,” Luigi said evenly.  “I was on my way to making friends and earning respect when Master Hand put that tier list up.  And then, boom.  They all pounced on me like hungry lions on their prey.  I was heckled and booed.  Maxim Tomatoes and other things were thrown at me.  I was subjected to bathroom pranks, crank calls and mocking posts on the old blog.  Prospective friends betrayed me on a dime.  I was referred to as ‘the bottom of the food chain’, ‘the last-place loser’, ‘the worst character in the game’ and even a n—b.  Was that what you wanted?”

              “Nothing pleases me more than watching people have fun at your expense,” laughed Sakurai.

              “Too bad,” said Luigi, “because I fought them tooth-and-nail.  Despite being last, I gave it my all and forced them to realize that they judged a book by its cover, if you’ll pardon the cliché.  By the time Melee rolled around, they were forced to acknowledge my potential.  But then, poor Kirby was kicked to the bottom.  He’s your brainchild.  Don’t you care about him?”

              “While I regret what happened to the little guy in Melee, the mechanics of that game had severely crippled him,” said Sakurai.  “The truth hurt, but it had to be done.”

              “Okay, so you sort of care about him,” said Luigi, “but Melee was when Crazy Hand came onto the scene.  And he had it in for me since he first saw my face.  I bet you’re gonna play dumb about that, aren’t you?”

              “Crazy Hand and I have plenty in common,” said Sakurai, “including the joy we derive in having fun at someone’s expense.  But didn’t he explain his motives to our dear readers?  He was jealous of you, and he despised you because you defied his power.”

              “But were you in cahoots with him?” Luigi wanted to know, taking another gulp of Mountain Dew to remain calm.

              “Is that a question?  Of course, I was!” Daddy Sakurai chortled.  “He and I are best buddies!  I mean, think about it!  Why were you accepted into Smash in the first place?”

              “Because Master Hand knew what I could do,” responded Luigi.

              “Oh, and so apparently, I’m okay with that,” eyerolled Sakurai.  “What I mean was the fact that I didn’t question Master’s decision to include you.  Crazy and I—we saw ripe opportunities to make your life in Smash a living Hell and to keep you in your place!  The tier list for Smash 64 was only the beginning.  Then, in 2001, Crazy called and said that he’d become the assistant master of ceremonies for Melee, since the roster was bigger than last time!  I knew that we both had the same idea.  Imagine what havoc Crazy could wreak ensconced in his new position!”

              “So,” Luigi said quietly, “Crazy Hand had an ulterior motive when he accepted the position.”

              “You are one smart plumber,” nodded Sakurai.  “However, he knew that making a move directly would blow his cover.  So, he capitalized on the torment you were facing currently—and so did I.”

              “So, Blaine, Adam, Jim, David, Raymond and the others—they were working for you and Crazy?”

              “No—no,” said Sakurai.  “We merely encouraged them to continue, even take their acts up a notch.  They didn’t need much persuasion, after all—but we figured a nice, fat check every two weeks would make them less concerned of the risks they took day in and day out.”

              Luigi’s face began to pale.  “Oh, _mio Dio_ ,” he gasped.  He was losing his composure, slowly but surely.  “You’re sick.”

              “Like I said, I was having fun at your expense,” laughed Sakurai, raising his glass to his lips.

              Then, Luigi gently took the glass of Scotch away from Sakurai and took a modest gulp from it.  “Excuse me,” he apologized, “but I need something stronger now.”

              Sakurai waved it away.  “Help yourself,” he said.

              “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere,” said Luigi.  “The readers, the author and myself—we’re finally starting to understand all this nonsense.  All along, whether directly or indirectly—it was you.”

              “Bingo,” winked Sakurai.

              “Tell me about Subspace then,” said Luigi, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs.  “You hoped it would kill me, didn’t you?”

              “Rest assured, Crazy and I had nothing to do with Tabuu’s plot,” said Sakurai, “but we kinda hoped the prospect would make you soil yourself, if Tabuu didn’t end your game.”

              “News flash—Tabuu didn’t make me soil myself,” Luigi said firmly as Sakurai courteously served him a fresh glass of Scotch.  “I’ll hand it to you—I kinda wanted to run, but I didn’t.  Because I knew I was needed.  And I wasn’t about to stand there and watch helplessly while that blue fiend put my friends in danger.  So, I battled him and bled all over myself—but I won.  You and Tabuu clearly underestimated my depth of loyalty to my fellow Smashers.  But—it’s nice to know that you didn’t go that far to torment me.  So, let’s jump to my year.”

              “Ah, the Year of Luigi,” scoffed Sakurai.  “Nintendo’s sales plunged during it, you know.”

              “So—ending it was a way of punishing me for your financial distress?”

              “You didn’t deserve that year, but obviously, the rest of Nintendo thought you did.  I was jumping for joy when March 18, 2014 rolled around.  Crazy Hand finally convinced them that the Luigi party was over.”

              “But you didn’t stop my fans from supporting me,” said Luigi, “nor did you stop Master Hand from promoting me to a starting character.”

              “Yes, I know,” sighed Sakurai, “but as 2014 gave way to 2015, we were constantly searching for another moment to pounce.  And we found it in…”

              “…the Bennigan Brothers,” finished Luigi.

              “Exactly.  I helped Vince, Manny and Shane get Stuart on the roster, and I advised him to butter you up first and earn your trust before making his move.  And what a move!  Getting you into trouble, snatching away your Smasher of the Month nomination and eventually getting Master Hand p—ed at you!”  He guffawed.  “That was when Crazy decided it was time to act, setting in motion a scheme long in the making.”

              “To make me less viable,” breathed Luigi.

              “Mmm-hmm.  Though he couldn’t afford to join with the conspirators of Project Nerf, he fueled their cause with dissertations and a steady flow of cold, hard cash.  He also spoiled them rotten with dinner parties, luxurious apartments for them to stay in—even free transportation to the meeting places.  And—he also helped arrange meetings between me and the conspirators.  That’s what friends are for.  I was more than happy to help them.  You were so focused on trying to get your beloved Daisy into Smash that you had no idea that I was in on the plan to send you back to the bottom where you belong.”

              “Which brings us to the real reason I’m here,” said Luigi.  “What you did to Daisy.”

              Daddy Sakurai laughed.  “Seeing how you were lobbying me, there was nothing I wanted more than to throw it back in your face.  When your enemies outlined their scheme to me, I was more than ready to help.  I sent them the Ballot vote counts and then suggested that they rig it entirely.  With help from some Smashers, I inflated the vote counts of the troll characters and brought Cloud in so people would stop pestering me.  Finally, just for the heck of it and to cover our tracks, we chose Bayonetta as the lucky winner.”

              “Wow,” said Luigi.  “All of that, just to spite me.”

              “You were just my cash cow, Luigi,” snickered Sakurai.  “That’s all there is to it.”

              “I thought so,” Luigi said, smoothly knocking back the last of his Scotch.  Sakurai instantly refilled the glass, the plumber’s eyes on him the entire time.  “I knew you never really cared about me.  Without me, you wouldn’t profit from two-player Mario games.  But have you ever wondered what would happen if Mario—my big bro and the face of Nintendo—found out about your little vendetta against me?”

              “Yeah, like _that’s_ gonna happen.”

              Luigi blinked.  “Are you sure about that?”  He held up a tape recorder, its red light blinking.  “Sometimes, it pays to listen to villains’ evil monologues.  You might wind up using those monologues against them.”  He pocketed the tape recorder and raised his glass mockingly.  “Cheers, Daddy Sakurai.”  He emptied the glass in a few swallows, gently set the glass down, and rose from his seat.

              Daddy Sakurai gripped the armrests of his chair, the color rapidly draining from his face.  Now that Luigi possessed evidence of his evil schemes, he also possessed the power to ruin him.  “What do you want?” he asked shakily.  “Money?  Another game?  I’ll give you anything—I’ll do anything!”

              Luigi gripped the edges of Sakurai’s desk and leaned forward, his bulbous nose nearly touching our gaming lord and savior’s forehead.  “Too late,” he whispered, his eyes sparking wickedly.  “Thirty-three years too late.”

              And with that, he shoved Reggie off the desk, grabbed Sakurai by the neck and slammed him onto it—


	72. Interlude: He Had It Coming

_**Luigi’s POV** _

**Revenge is a dish best served—green.**

**Nobody specializes in revenge better than me—but don’t quote me on that.  I make sure they feel what I felt when they did those things to me—and if I allow them to keep their lives, then I ensure that the rest of their days will be painful and miserable.  I’ve tried to forgive and forget, my they have the nasty habit of taking advantage of my forgiveness.  They think I’ll forgive them the next time, and the next, and the next—**

**But they’re wrong.**

**Everyone has a limit.  And my limit has been reached.**

**You think how I took care of Marth, Mewtwo, Dark Pit, Kyle, Budd, Tristan, Spike, Claude, Koopa and the others was gruesome?  You think the fates I assigned to the Bennigan Brothers and Crazy Hand was brutal?  Boy, you haven’t seen anything yet!  What I did to them will look like a freaking picnic compared to what’s about to happen to the grand mastermind—Daddy Sakurai.**

**It was him.  All this time, he encouraged what befell me.  The insults.  The beatings.  The heckling.  Even Falcon and Fox’s mess back in the day, no doubt.  The realization that Sakurai wanted to use Smash as an apparatus to torture me has opened old wounds, and though I’ve forgiven the truly repentant bullies, I can never forget what they’ve done.  Sakurai’s admission has only made the memories worse.**

**I’m gonna need a lot of Sandbags when I get back.**

**Right now, a recording of Sakurai’s gloating is safely tucked into the pocket of my overalls.  Our gaming lord and savior isn’t so cocky and tough anymore, now that I hold his future—and his life—in my hands!  His eyes are wide with naked fear as I pin him to his desk, where Reggie once was, desperately trying to pry my iron grip from him.  Fat chance at that!  He’s offered me money, power, a bigger role in future Mario games—everything under the sun—but it’s too late.  I don’t want money.  I want him to suffer.  Slowly.**

**And so I make him suffer.  Slowly.**

**I start off with my fists.  I trade my regular white gloves for a pair of white leather gloves, gloves which I know very well what will do to Daddy Sakurai’s charming face.  And the nights I’ve spent battering Sandbags roar into me, and it feels so good, and I don’t give him time to plead for mercy as I drive a vicious cross-punch into his face.  The leather does a fine job of absorbing the impact, but I do feel the shock wave ripple up to my shoulder, and oh, God—that’s so _exciting_!  It’s the feeling of each punch I throw reverberating which truly sets me off, and I waste no time in straddling Daddy Sakurai and punching and punching and punching, using both of my fists, feeling his jaw crack, and then break, and seeing blood pour out of his nose and mouth and even his eyes—I may have busted his orbits.  And still I keep going, slamming my trusty, leather-gloved fists into him, my calm giving way to the worst fury imaginable as I shout my throat raw.  Shouting curses and accusations and wordless cries as I beat away, nearly destroying every bone in that face and stopping only when my gloves are covered in blood, his and mine.  After slipping back into my regular gloves, I shove a Mushroom into his mouth to keep him conscious, to feel every agony I’ll inflict on his body.**

**Now that his face is sufficiently beaten, I next grab my nightstick and cruelly set upon his body.  Starting with his neck, making sure to avoid the vocal cords.  His chest, sparing nothing with his ribcage and relishing each bone giving way under each blow.  Finally, his stomach, turning most if not all of his internal organs into jelly, watching more quantities of blood spew from his mouth, hearing his cries becoming more gurgled, which only increases my rage towards him.  I put my leather gloves back on and attack his already beaten body with greater ferocity, using him as a gigantic Sandbag, imagining stuffing pouring out and pooling around the training tool.  After one last punch to the stomach, I cast aside my gloves, this time for good, and generate my fire onto my left hand.  Then, I start burning him—down his arms and legs, all over his neck, branding and “L” into both of his cheeks—and finally opening his shirt and branding the already-damaged flesh underneath.  I take my half-empty (or half-full, LOL) glass of Mountain Dew and pour it onto the burns, followed by a nearby decanter of Scotch.**

**He’s nice and tenderized now.**

**So, I take Shane’s pocket knife, heat it up until its glowing green and stab into the scorched skin, almost up to the hilt, and then drag it until I make I nice slice in his torso.  Slice after slice after slice, more of his blood pools onto his desk, and his pleas become more frightened.  I shush him gently and stroke his cheek while my slashing and stabbing continues.  The slashes take shape into a _kanji_ of the letter “L”.  Yes, I know how to write in _kanji_ —Marth was nice enough to teach it to me back in Melee before he turned on me.  I wipe the pocket knife clean while I study my artwork.  He’s going to walk around for the rest of his days with that _kanji_ branded on his skin.  Let’s see how he likes _that_.**

             **Now, Manny’s penknife is in my hand, also heated by my fire.  I press the scorching blade against his face, and he screams.  With brutal force, I plunge the blade into the bridge of his nose, sawing away.  His nose comes away in chunks of flesh, blood and bone, leaving two, sunken in holes.  It’s broken, anyway, courtesy of my blows earlier, so it’s relatively easy to carve it away.  I do the same thing to his eyes, slowly and methodically carving them from his face as he writhes beneath me; I easily keep him down with my weight.  I turn his face into a pulpy mess of blood and retina fragments, and then I squash both of this villain’s eyes in my fist, one by one, smearing the resulting goo onto random areas on his body.  I wonder if I should take his hearing away from him, as well as his taste—but I figure that he needs to hear people mock him for his ugliness, as he’s allowed so many to mock me over my timid nature.  Fine.  He gets to keep his senses of hearing and taste.  But that’s the least of his problems—**

**I pull out a pair of pliers and force his bloody, broken mouth open.  Surprisingly, a large amount of teeth remain intact.  I’ll take care of that.  I don’t give him the benefit of anesthesia or unconsciousness as I clamp my pliers onto his molars and rip them from his gums.  First the top ones, and then the bottom ones.  I think the bottom ones cause the most pain.  The pliers easily crush each molar before pulling them free.  Now, his mouth is a mess of blood.  Pools of it brim in the empty tooth sockets, and his gums look swollen and inflamed.  I decide to leave a few of his front teeth in; it’ll probably add to his hideousness.  For the finale, I send a large fireball directly onto his tongue.  Looks like his sense of taste is going, after all—at least temporarily.**

**Then, there’s the metal pole Vince tried to attack me with.  I use the pole to rain even heavier blows on him, intensifying and prolonging the pain.  With precise swings, I break his arms, shoulders and legs.  I stop after a few minutes, only because I have something else in mind.  I turn him over onto his stomach and use the pocket knife to leave a nice message onto his back.**

**I AM A GREEDY, HEARTLESS WRETCH, AND LUIGI GAVE ME WHAT I DESERVED.**

**Sakurai sobs.  I stab into both of his shoulder blades, flip him back over and undo his trousers and underwear.  He’s saying “no” over and over, but didn’t I do that while bullies set upon me on his watch?  Didn’t I?**

              **My index finger lights up with a greenish-white flame, and I slowly lower it, making him savor each second, making him accept the finger’s eventual destination and how it’s going to dictate the rest of his pathetic life.  My other hand gently supports his—package—and once my index finger is millimeters away, I allow it to hover for a moment over his anatomy so he can feel the intense heat of my fire.  Smiling, I jab my finger into the package, making him shriek and flop like a fish out of water.  After I fry the golden eggs to a crisp, I drag my fiery finger up and down Little Sakurai.  If he still had eyes, then he’d probably be crying by now.  I would’ve loved to lick the tears from his face, like I did with some other bullies I took vengeance on, like Raymond, but what better way to ruin this bully and troll than to pluck out his eyes?**

**After making sure everything is fully burned, I withdraw my index finger, roll him onto his stomach once again and force his legs apart.  I clutch my nightstick and breathe heavily, the most venomous malice I’ve ever felt in my entire life shooting through my nerves.  Inhaling, exhaling and remembering every punch, kick or degrading word each of those bullies landed on me and imagining Daddy Sakurai sitting at this desk and thinking it’s the funniest thing on Earth—**

**And then I ram the nightstick in—hard.**

**“Do you know how it feels for the person at whose expense you’re having fun?” I ask him as I thrust the nightstick in and out, deeply and violently, again and again and again, tearing into him.  “This is how it feels!  This is what you’ve done to me for most of my life!  Well, guess what, Sakurai?  You’ve had your fun.  Now—I’m going to have mine!”**

**“Please!” screams Sakurai as I angle the succeeding thrusts, making sure no area is left untouched.  “Please, Luigi!  Please!”**

**“I begged every bully in my life—from Blaine and Raymond to Mewtwo—to stop, to leave me alone, to let me go,” I say, increasing the power behind my thrusts.  “I said, ‘Please’ and screamed so loud that I’d get a sore throat.  But did that stop them?  No!  I’d be a bloody heap on the floor, a sobbing mess, or both!  And you complimented them for that!  You _paid_ them for doing that!  Consider this your reimbursement!”**

**I push the nightstick in one final time before yanking it out and dropping it to the floor.  But Daddy Sakurai’s relief is short-lived, as the nightstick is immediately replaced by the metal pole.  And the louder he screams and begs, the deeper and harder the pole goes until the desk begins to creak.  I find that I can better punish him with the metal pole—it’s not as—streamlined—as the nightstick.  Blood and other things start seeping out, but I just keep going and going, my mind corrupted with memories past and recent, angry tears flowing down my face and sobs jerking out of my throat.  I trusted him!  He helped bring Smash to life!  And then he spat in my face!  But isn’t that just what people like to do to me nowadays?!**

**Then, I release a deep-throated cry of fury and plunge the pole in repeatedly, capping it off with one last deep and punishing thrust.  Leaving the pole in, I pull the trousers back onto him and fasten his belt, just how it had been before I removed it.  He sobs quietly as I dump him back onto his chair and then turn away from him, gasping for breath and regaining my bearings.  As my anger begins to subside, I remember Reggie.**

**Perhaps there’s one more use for that nightstick after all.**

**I pick it up, wipe it off and then march over to where he’s crumpled, curled up on the ground and whimpering like a five-year-old.**

**But by the time I’m finished with him, he’s curled up and whimpering with that nightstick lodged deep inside him.**

**I step back and glare at them, now in constant pain and suffering, just like they kept me in constant pain and suffering.**

**“How does it feel?” I ask them.  “Crumpled on the floor like refuse and humiliated?  Now, you know how _I_ used to feel.”  For the finishing touch, I take a bottle of lye and pour it over both of them.  “Don’t ever ask me for anything ever again.”**

**I turn on my heel and march out of the office, leaving Daddy Sakurai and his right-hand man to a fate worse than death.**

**Revenge is a dish best served—green.**

**I'm friends with the monster that's under my bed**   
**Get along with the voices inside of my head**   
**You're trying to save me, stop holding your breath**   
**And you think I'm crazy, yeah, you think I'm crazy**

**Well, that's nothing!**

 


	73. Shredded

              Rain fell as Luigi walked out of Daddy Sakurai’s lair, smirking internally as the minions groaned and then cowered away from him as he passed.  He left them alone—he’d done enough damage with the way he took care of their bosses—and pushed through the doors into the cool rain.  His eyes closed, and his head tilted back, a deep sigh of bliss escaping him as the raindrops soothed the fever on his skin and in his soul.  He stood there, like a fool, in the rain, allowing it to cleanse him.  There was the metallic scene of rainwater and the taste of the drops on his tongue, and he even took off his hat and let the rain caress his hair like in the showers of the Smash Mansion.

              The Smash Mansion—

              Luigi headed over to his car and sat on the bumper, putting his hat back on and watching the rain pelt the earth.  Master Hand was going to find out about this, and once again, _he’d_ be treated like the bad guy.  The Hand of Creation would also be upset over the plumber’s lie by omission.  He’d probably suspend him like he did with Mario and Peach.  Or maybe he’d kick him out.  Or maybe—

              The rain felt so soothing, washing the anger and the pain away.  Rinsing off the dirt and filth from what these a-holes did to him and shaping him into a new man.  Luigi honestly felt as if he was being reborn, right there in the rain.  The bullying network giving him grief had finally been crippled to the point of no return.  With a little help from his friends, he’d exposed Crazy Hand and Daddy Sakurai as the main masterminds behind it all.  Though the revelations would require some rehashing of the past, Luigi felt that he could confess everything to Master Hand and face his punishment without complaint.

              Suddenly, he was off the car bumper and on his knees on the soaked ground, crying.  Why was he crying?  Exhaustion?  Leftover adrenaline?  Relief?  Anger?  Sadness?  All of the above?  Hot tears mingled with the cool rain, the sound of the pour drowning out his deepening sobs.  He could conceal how much the bullies’ actions had broken him during the confrontation, and now that it was over, his grip had failed.  Heavily, he leaned against the side of his car, slightly drawing up his knees and hugging them, his body heaving with choking, constricting sobs which he eagerly let loose, throwing back his head and letting his anguished cries and screams fly into the storm.  Distant thunder rumbled, matching his mood, and he saw lightning flicker across the edges of the sky.  Now, he was crying and whooping and hollering like a madman, sparkles of electricity lingering on his fingertips.  He rose to his feet and cast a caustic stare toward the parking structures surrounding the lair.  He would’ve brought down the lair itself if he hadn’t wanted to spare Sakurai, Reggie, Vince, Manny, Shane and the others.  Time to see how high and mighty they’d think of themselves without those flashy vehicles.

              Grabbing gulps of air, translucent snot from his nose mixing with the drool from his mouth, Luigi clenched his fists and smiled through his tears as fire and electricity built up in his body.  He heard the thunder, louder this time, as if encouraging him, telling him to do it.  He was one with this storm; he could feel it.  He could feel the electrical currents swimming inside of him.  He could feel the intense heat swarming in his fists as bright blue lightning bolts writhed about them.  He was literally steaming as the driving rain clashed with his fire.  Everything, from his first years in Smash to the Nintendo Direct presentation last year to those tier lists and to discovering Crazy Hand’s complicity, flashed through his mindscape and built up the fire and thunder.  The thunder cracked once more, like a starting pistol, and then boomed and crashed and rumbled around him.  There was lightning in his fists and down his arms, lightning in his eyes and lightning and fire roiling in his belly.  He was crying so hard that he could barely breathe.  Yet he maintained control of the fire and thunder, waiting—waiting—waiting.  He noticed the clouds growing darker and darker and silently prayed for a tornado.

              Through his powerful sobs, he could feel Mother Nature communicating with him.  _Do it.  Do it, Luigi.  I will help you._

Fists and body practically glowing, Luigi gathered up his combustible emotions and put them all together in a titanic scream of pure rage as his electricity and fire ripped from him, slamming full-force into the first parking structure he saw.  Plaster, stone and asphalt crumbled as Luigi did the same to the other parking structures, making sure they were free of people before unleashing the last of his brutal fury.  The sky glowed in cyan and aquamarine.  Luigi started laughing with the screams and sobs, laughing hysterically to the point he couldn’t take it anymore, jets of green and pulses of blue continuing to shoot from his hands.  His chest heaved, and his heart thudded in his chest as the falling structures turned the cars they housed into shattered glass, mangled metal and tires.  Then, the remnants of cars on the higher floors tumbled onto the remnants on the lower floors, and Luigi relished in the resulting cacophony of crashing and crunching of metal and car alarms.

              Once all the parking structures had been completely demolished, Luigi raised his arms and released everything he had left into the sky, enraptured by the greenish-blue glow.  He could hear his sobs subsiding.  He could feel his emotions cooling.  He could sense peace and exhaustion creeping in.  He could breathe again.  The heat drained from his body.  The thunder decreased to rumbles and mumbles before slowly dying away.  The stream of fire and lightning pouring from his hands gradually died down.  The rain dwindled to sprinkles and then stopped entirely.  Breathing in controlled beats, Luigi willed the last of his fire to simmer down, lowering his arms and studying the glowing fireball between his palms.  The fireball shrank until it was just in one palm, and with one last deep breath, Luigi extinguished it.  He wiped the tears and snot from his face and then glanced at the sky as it began to clear.  A ray of sunlight beamed down on him, as if assuring him that everything was going to be okay and that the worst was over.

              As the clouds melted from the sky, Luigi felt a big, warm palm on the small of his back.  “That’s right, L.  Just let it out,” boomed a familiar voice.  “It’s over.  It’s over.”

              Luigi heard distant scuffling and shouting, and he turned and stared in awe.  Val, Evelyn, Officer Giulia, Mandy, Evan had led a team of police officers and FBI agents into the building and arrested the Bennigan Brothers, Reggie, Sakurai and their cronies.  A team of Mii Fighters brought Crazy Hand out, whining and in chains.

              “Wow…” he breathed.

              Master Hand smiled.  “Told ya,” he said.

              Luigi then faced the Hand of Creation.  “Master Hand, I know this looks bad, but…”

              Master shushed him gently.  “There’s no need to explain,” he assured him.

              “I should’ve told you that I was gonna confront them,” Luigi sighed.  “I’m sorry.”

              “I know,” said Master.  “Mario and Peach told me about Crazy Hand.”

              “Really?”

              “Yup.  If they hadn’t come to me, then he would’ve taken his revenge on Evan and Mandy.  So, I un-suspended them.”

              Luigi smiled.  “I knew you’d see things their way after all.”

              “However, they shouldn’t have attacked Crazy Hand like that, and I probably won’t be so nice to them next time,” warned Master.  “Same with you, Luigi.  I understand why you barged in here like this.  It’s so easy to just—take matters into your own hands.  But…”

              “I know,” murmured Luigi.  “There are other ways to handle this.  Would you have believed me if I’d come to you with my suspicions?”

              “I would’ve looked into it,” said Master.

              “But nobody likes a tattletale,” objected Luigi.

              “I must emphasize zero tolerance on bullying and harassment,” Master told him.  “I assure you, Crazy and the others will answer for their actions, both in this world and the next.  They are hereby ordered to appear before a tribunal in two days’ time.”

              “When will they be arraigned?” asked Luigi.

              “Tomorrow,” replied Master.  “I have to clear things with the police and the FBI and arrange a secure area to hold them in.”

              Luigi was silent for a moment.  “They’re here to arrest me, too, aren’t they?  I mean, look at what I did.  I…”

              “I just talked to Giulia, and she said that she won’t take you into custody, provided that I reprimand you for your actions,” said Master Hand.  “So, consider yourself reprimanded.”

              “Yes, Master Hand.”  Luigi heaved another sigh.  “But I bet you’re itching to slap another suspension on me.”

              “What makes you think that?”

              “You never see things my way,” Luigi sharply put in.  “You’re gonna go off on me for causing this chaos.”

              “Luigi,” began Master.  “You might not believe me, but I kinda _do_ see things your way.”

              Luigi softened a bit.  “You—do.”

              “Yeah.  And you’re right.  I really need to crack down when it comes to bullying.  Which is why I intend to make this upcoming tribunal a public one.”  The Hand squeezed Luigi’s shoulder.  “If someone constantly hurt me or one of my Smashers, and there was no one to turn to or if I was failed by the justice system, then perhaps I would’ve taken action myself.  Just—not as drastic.”

              A smiled spread across Luigi’s face.  “Thank you, Master Hand.  I think there can finally be peace between us.”

              “Me, too,” said Master Hand.  “As for your punishment, I offer you only two days’ probation in exchange for your cooperation during the tribunal proceedings.  How does that sound?”

              “I’ll take it,” said Luigi.

              They watched as Val and Agent Ferdinand walked toward them.

              “We’ll take them to Central Booking, and then we’ll transfer them to you, Master Hand,” said Agent Ferdinand.

              “Thanks,” said Master, giving his pointer finger for the agent to shake.

              “Are you all right, Luigi?” Val asked in concern.

              “Yeah,” Luigi said softly.  “I think I’ll be okay.  I’m…”

              “Don’t even say it,” said Val.  “Giulia and I agreed to let you off just this once if MH here reprimands you.”

              “And I’ve reprimanded him,” said Master.

              Val nodded.  “Good.  I would also suggest seeing a psychiatrist on a regular basis and joining a support group.”

              “I’ll talk to Dr. Mario,” promised Luigi.

              “That’s a good idea,” said Master.  “Perhaps he’ll personally refer you to a psychiatrist.”

              “Thank you for your help,” said Val.

              “No, Val,” Master said quietly.  “Thank _you_.”

              Agent Ferdinand and Val shook hands with Master and Luigi before turning back to their prisoners being hauled onto a bus.  As Crazy was led toward the bus, he stared at Master with puppy-dog eyes, praying that his twin would feel sorry for him, given the scars on his front and back.  But Master lanced the Hand of Destruction with “don’t even try it” eyes.  Crazy bowed his head, resigned to his fate, and squeezed himself into the bus with little or no resistance.

              “All right, Luigi,” said Master Hand.  “Let’s get you home.”

              Luigi nodded and smiled as Master enfolded him in his palm, and together, they teleported away.

             


	74. Mea Culpa

              “I’m sorry,” was the first thing Luigi said to Master Core after Master Hand brought him to his father’s office and the two had shared a hug.

              “What for?” asked MC.

              “I lied to you and your son about the reason I had to leave,” said Luigi.  “I went to New York City and had the bullies in that network—taken care of.”

              “Luigi,” MC said softly.  “My son isn’t angry with you, and neither am I.  We both know why you did it.  The situations with Roy and Falco made you snap.”

              “The Bennigan Brothers and Sakurai are still alive, in case you’re wondering,” said Luigi.  “Halfway through, I figured that it would be better if I let them live, albeit in agony.”

              “I’ll be present for the tribunal and tomorrow’s arraignment,” said MC.

              “They probably lawyered up, but that won’t stop us,” said Master.  “Thanks to you, Mario, Peach, Evan, Mandy, Val, Evelyn and the other whistle-blowers out there, we have solid evidence.”

              “I also heard about Crazy Hand,” said MC.  “I should be the one apologizing, Luigi.  He had me, Master and the Smashers fooled for 15 whole years.”

              “At least you’ll get to see the truth whenever you look at him,” smirked Luigi.

              “Look, L—the way you handled the situation was wrong,” said MC.  “I can’t lie about that.  But I must confess that if I saw anyone, god or human, hurting my boys, and if the perpetrators walked free, then I would’ve punished them myself.  Just—not as severely.”

              “Hey, that’s what I told him!” said Master.

              “Great minds think alike,” said MC.  “Now, I just spoke with Val, Giulia and Agent Ferdinand.  Since my son reprimanded you, and that trust that we’ll deal with the matter appropriately, they decided not to bring charges against you.  But be warned: they may not be so lenient next time.”

              “I understand,” said Luigi.

              “After you get comfortable, I want you to go see Dr. Mario,” said MC.  “I already directed Mario and Peach to him, and he seems to be helping them.”

              “How are they, by the way?” asked Luigi.

              “Better,” said MC.  “Maybe at the tribunal, I’ll force them to undo the nerf on Peach.”

              “That’s another thing,” said Luigi.  “I’d like to file a civil suit against Crazy Hand, Sakurai and the Bennigan Brothers.  The best way to hurt them is to hurt them financially.”

              “Luigi—that’s—a good idea!” gushed Master Hand.  “It’s better than using violence to get even with them.  Did you just think of that now?”

              “I guess so,” blushed Luigi.

              “But to do that, you’ll need a lawyer,” said MC, “and I know the best one in the video game universe.”  He handed Luigi a card as he spoke.  “Contact this man as soon as possible.  He’ll build an airtight civil case for sure.”

              Luigi looked at the card and smiled.  “Thanks.”

              “Dad, I talked to Luigi, and I’ve decided to put him on probation for two days, as long as he cooperates during the tribunal proceedings,” said Master Hand.

              MC nodded in approval.  “His punishment will be over on the day of the tribunal.  I think that’s motivation enough for him.”

              “I want to trust you again,” Luigi said softly, “but after the business with Crazy Hand—I don’t know if I can.”

              “You’ve thought that we didn’t see things your way, but the truth is that we do,” said Master.  “We just need to maintain a good environment and keep Smash safe and enjoyable.  It’s wrong to bully people, but there are less destructive alternatives to handling it.  You can trust us, Luigi, but can we trust you?”

              “Yes,” Luigi stated solemnly.  “You always have.  And you always will.”

              “That’s what I’d like to hear,” said MC.  “Now, run along, and go see Dr. Mario.  We have an arraignment and a tribunal to prepare for.”

              Luigi beamed at the duo before exiting the office, feeling a million pounds lighter.

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              “Thank God you’re okay,” said Dr. Mario when Luigi walked into the office.

              “I missed you, too, Dr. Mario,” said Luigi.

              Luigi made himself comfortable on the couch as Dr. Mario fixed his patient some chamomile.  “Now, would you like to tell me why you’re here this afternoon?”

              Taking a deep breath, Luigi began.  “I’m shattered, splintered and shredded,” he said.  “So much has happened to me, and I thought I could handle it on my own, but I can’t.  I have people telling me that taking matters into my own hands is wrong, but why does it feel right when I do it?”

              “Revenge won’t undo what’s happened to you,” Dr. Mario said wisely.  “While there’s no question that your enemies deserved what you did to them, revenge is—poisonous.  It will take you over, and in no time, turn you into someone ugly.”

              “I’ve already been turned into someone ugly once, although not of my own accord,” mused Luigi.

              “But you don’t want it to happen of your own accord, right?”

              “No, I don’t.  What do you think I should do, Doc?”

              “You’re already doing it,” smiled Dr. Mario.  “You’re acknowledging that you have a problem and getting help.  And trust me, I know what it’s like.  Remember, I was bullied myself, for being a clone, and you gave me advice on how to deal with that.  Now, I’m returning the favor.”

              “I think what made me resort to revenge was the fact that I had my own year, and then it was taken from me,” mused Luigi.  “I spent years and years taking it, trying to ignore them, and when they pulled the plug on my year, it was what the bullies had waited for.  But after rescuing my brother twice and facing Tabuu, I had to show them that I wasn’t going to be stomped all over anymore.  It was time for them to feel my pain.”

              “But by doing that, won’t you become like them?” asked Dr. Mario.

              “I didn’t deserve it,” said Luigi.  “They did.”

              “I’m really glad you came to see me,” said Dr. Mario.  “As someone who has firsthand experience, perhaps I can attract you toward alternative approaches to the situation.”

              “Like a civil suit?”

              “Yeah, and at the tribunal, the evidence will be produced for all to see,” said Dr. Mario.  “Will speaking at the tribunal give you closure?”

              “Definitely,” said Luigi.  “I want to look them in the eye and expose them before God and everyone.”

              “And what about afterward?” queried Dr. Mario.  “I mean, after both the tribunal and the civil suit?”

              Luigi looked Dr. Mario straight in the eye.  “I move on,” he said.  “It won’t be easy, but it’s worth a shot.”

              “I like your attitude, Luigi,” said Dr. Mario, grabbing a pen and a card and scribbling something onto it.

              “Here,” he said, handing the card to Luigi.  “This is the contact information of the best psychiatrist I know.  I know she’ll make your life easier.  And tell her Dr. Mario sent you.”

              Gratefully, Luigi took the card.  “I will,” he promised.

              “It’s good to have you back, L,” said Dr. Mario.  “Again.”

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              “Docket ending in 24601, the Smash Universe vs. Vincent Bennigan, Emmanuel Bennigan, Shane Bennigan, Crazy Hand and Masahiro Sakurai.  Charges are conspiracy, crimes against a fighter in the Smash tournament and crimes against humanity,” said the clerk.

              Luigi sat with the others in the gallery, in the front row, glaring at the back of the defendants’ lawyer.  His charm and silver tongue wasn’t going to weasel his clients out of this.  Daisy, sitting next to him, squeezed his hand.

              “How do you plead?” asked Master Hand.

              “Not guilty, Master Hand,” the lawyer said haughtily.

              “You’ve got a lot of nerve,” Mario growled in a low, menacing voice.

              “Mario, don’t make me change my mind about your suspension,” warned Master.  Mario rolled his eyes.  “Now, what should be done for bail?”

              “The people request remand,” said ADA Kovacs.  “The defendants are flight risks and dangers to themselves and to others.”

              “My clients were viciously attacked and horribly scarred by that man in green,” argued the defense.

              “Luigi’s actions are regrettable,” said Kovacs, “but that matter has already been discussed and sealed.  It is irrelevant to this case.”

              “My clients are charitable, hospitable people.  One of them finances this Smash tournament,” said the defense.

              “If the chief financier of Smash bullies one of its participants, then wouldn’t that be setting a bad example?” challenged Kovacs.

              “Good question, Ms. Kovacs,” said Master Hand.  “The defendants shall be remanded without bail.  We are adjourned.”

              As Mii security guards led the defendants away, Luigi and Daisy exchanged a look.  Earlier that day, they’d filed their civil lawsuit, and those fiends should be getting served any day now.  The taking was only beginning—

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              That afternoon, Luigi accompanied Daisy to her castle, and they wasted no time getting upstairs and yanking their clothes off their bodies, knowing nothing except that they needed to be loved—

              “Luigi—oh, Luigi!” screamed Daisy as he greedily licked away at her flower pod, working her hard with his lips and tongue.  Remnants of snack foods were scattered on the dresser beside them, but they’d abandoned the snacks in favor of some dessert.  The Flower Princess entangled her fingers in Luigi’s hair and closed her eyes, gasping and shrieking as he continued eating her out.

              “I—I’m gonna…” Daisy screamed like never before as her body shuddered, and she squirted straight into Luigi’s waiting mouth.  After he licked her clean, he withdrew and kissed up her body, soothing her through the aftershocks.  She claimed his lips, and they devoured mouths and tongues in a powerful kiss, Daisy tasting her own flower juice on her plumber’s lips.  He ended the kiss and got out the bottle of lotion, popping open the cap and using it to draw a pattern on her stomach.  Then, he squirted it onto her neck, her chest, on, around and between her breasts, down her arms and along her thighs.  It was a special kind of lotion which amplified the sensations only he could give to her body.  She found herself moistening again as he applied a small dollop of lotion to the tops of her breasts and commenced to massage it all in using sensual, practiced motions.

              “Mmmmm…” she moaned at the feeling of his soft hands.  “Mmmmm…”

              “You’re so tense,” Luigi said softly as he rubbed and stroked.  “What’s wrong?”

              “What these people did to you—to us…” Daisy began.

              “They’re not gonna hurt us anymore,” Luigi promised as the lotion began to take its desired effect on her skin.  “I swear it.”

              He flicked his thumbs, and then his tongue, over her pink, erected buds.  She sighed, so he drew both thumbs and tongue along, and then round and round, her buds at a slow, arousing pace.  Her flower pod was throbbing and gushing, but Luigi wasn’t done teasing yet.  Reaching into the dresser drawer, he pulled out a tube which read “KY” on its front, opened it and squirted a sparkling, heavenly scented substance onto his palm.  Daisy breathed heavily as he coated his gloved hands with the stuff; she knew exactly what it was and how much bliss it was going to bring—

              He smiled at her and opened the experience by smearing the KY onto the inside of her thighs and then inserting KY-covered fingers into her already-sopping flower pod.  He started pumping those fingers, slowly at first, and then faster and faster as both KY and flower juice drooled from those flower petals.  He applied more KY to her bikini line and her mound, and used his free hand to stroke her there while his other hand explored her Warp Pipe.  She gripped the side of the bed and dribbled, her back arching and her hips twisting at his ministrations.  He’d always given her so much pleasure, but never like this.  Never like this.  This was the magnitude of pleasure which blocked out everything else in her mind, which made her toes curl, her teeth wriggle, her upper body tingle and her salivary glands to briefly relax—it was in her very core.

              The soft bed beneath her.  His fingers.  His hands.  His melodic, accented voice.  She thought she was going to lose her mind and go after that traitor Sakurai with a chain saw, but as long as she had Luigi, she’d never go insane.  Both his hands were at her flower pod, stretching and pumping and slick with KY, and all manners of gibberish were coming out of her mouth, her navel wriggling as her body jerked and spasmed; she was holding it in as best as she could.

              And then he stopped, slid his fingers out and let her taste the KY (it was the edible kind) mixed with her own liquids.  She licked his fingers clean, down to his wrists, and then she sat up, licking down one arm, and then the other, continuing to his collarbone and chest.  He made a small noise as she went on a little trip halfway around the world, and then licked up his chin and kissed him passionately.  Then, she took the bottle of lotion and slathered it onto his shoulders, chest and torso, rubbing lightly and delicately as he moaned, his eyelids flittering with bliss.  Her motions deepened when she got to his waist and pelvis, touching close to his mushroom but deciding to leave it be for now, watching his face flush and feeling his hips jerk as she circled his inflating shroom.

              “Nnngh…” he groaned as she rubbed back up his stomach, quickly slipping a thumb in and out of his navel and cupping his handsome face in her hands.  “Daisy…”

              He squeezed more KY in artistic squiggles along the underside of her breasts, dotted her buds, and then positioned the tube and squirted the KY directly inside her, her flower pod greedily swallowing it up.  Finally, he set the tube aside and dropped his body over hers until her buds lightly brushed his chest, taking her mouth in his for another deep kiss.  His groin throbbed as much as hers, and after one last tender kiss, he slipped his thick mushroom in.

              Their slick bodies writhed and smacked together, over and over, like a sensual dance.  His skin was so warm and soft, as was hers, the lotion combining with the KY to produce sensations like they never felt before as they became one!  His thrusts were deep and passionate but gentle; he was in a wet wonderland.  She admired how his body seemed to weave as he pistoned into her.  Soft _thwips_ provided the chorus to the union of their bodies, drowned out by their moans, sighs, grunts, gasps, pants and cries.  The afternoon sun played across their nakedness, caressing them as they thrashed and he thrust in her over and over and over.  She wiggled like a cute little wriggle-worm, and she could tell by the slight spasms of his hips that he was as close to the edge as her.  But just as her world was about to go white, he slowed, undulating deeply inside of her, catching his breath and then helping himself to her breasts.  He used his tongue to trace a heart on her belly, followed by the message I LOVE YOU.  After he finished tracing loving messages on her body with his tongue, he stilled inside her, waiting for the feeling of bliss to dull slightly.

              They were covered in sweat.  Daisy’s hair was in her face, and Luigi brushed it aside.  He held her close and felt the small tremors in her body, more than matching the tremors in his body.  He was so swollen that he could feel the edges of her flower pod.  After playing with her buds some more with his thumbs, he withdrew a vibrator and turned it onto its medium setting.  Methodically, he ran the vibrator down her body, starting with the base of her chin.  He allowed it to linger at her breasts before passing it between the domes and then trailed it down her sides and her thighs before moving back up to her abdomen, tracing the contours of her muscles and watching the skin practically ripple with intense pleasure.  She breathed in jerky breaths and squeezed him like a lemon juicer, yet she refused to release until he started moving insider her again.  Then, the vibrator was at her navel, her hips, her pelvis, her bikini line, and finally, her mound.  Where it stayed.

              Daisy squirmed and even pleaded, but Luigi remained still, marinating inside her, even though he was also itching to burst.  His hips twitched erratically as he willed his shroom not to budge an inch.  He delicately kneaded the vibrator about her mound, lowering it centimeter by centimeter until it rested where he was still sheathed.  After some probing, he was able to find a place where both could feel its effects, and then he turned it up to its second from highest setting.

              “For the love of the Stars, Luigi!” moaned Daisy.

              Luigi soothed her with French kisses as he kept the vibrator pressed there, feeling it hum and thrum deep in their bodies.  He studied her, fighting to hold it in, and she studied him, trying to control his breaths.  She tried to grind her pelvis against his for some relief, but couldn’t; all she could do was shudder and grip her sheets and try not to drool.  His head leaned back, and she admired the tendons in his neck standing out.  Their hips seemed superglued together.  The vibrator sent waves upon waves of thrumming through them.  Wetness dripped and trailed from where they were conjoined.  Pleasure was everywhere.  They could barely take anymore.  They were about to blow!

              “Promise me,” Luigi managed to say, “that you’ll never let me go.”

              “I promise!  I’ll always be there for you!” squealed Daisy.  “Just—don’t do something like that again without running it by me, okay?”

              “Okay,” smiled Luigi.

              He turned the vibrator all the way up, and they both screamed with bliss, still trying to keep that wave at bay—

 

                  

 

               

 

 


	75. Stitches

              “Please, take your seats,” said the Mii bailiff.  “This Smash tribunal will now come to order.  Presiding over this case are Master Hand and Master Core.”

              Master Hand entered, followed by Master Core, and took their places at the head of the table.  They were accompanied by a panel of Mii jurors and ADA Kovacs.  Across from them sat the defendants, dressed their Sunday best, wearing hangdog expressions.  All three Bennigan Brothers had been crying, and Sakurai was paler than death.  Crazy’s digits were sweating.  Their attorney sat with his chest puffed out, confident that he’d get his clients home free.

              “Shane Bennigan, Emmanuel Bennigan, Vincent Bennigan, Masahiro Sakurai and Crazy Hand,” began Master.  “Let it be known that you have been brought before this tribunal today to face charges for your willful commission of crimes against one of my Smashers, against the tournament itself and against humanity.  Said crimes being numerous in quantity and sinister in nature, the most egregious of these shall be cited herewith: deliberately allowing and encouraging the abuse of one of my Smashers, abuse of power, conspiracy to rig the Smash Ballot, conspiracy to alter the mechanics of this tournament to harass a fighter, aiding and abetting dangerous criminals, misappropriation of funds, making criminal threats, harassment and public misconduct.  We will now hear opening arguments.”

              Kovacs rose, dressed in a cream-colored business suit and her hair in a sleek ponytail.  Face solemn, she stood before the Mii jurors and began:

              “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen of the jury.  I am here today because for most of his life, a man working menial jobs to make ends meet has been tortured, harassed, physically and psychologically abused and regarded as disposable waste.  The reason?  He’s the second player.  Thanks to the defendants, this innocent man felt like the lowest, weakest creature on God’s earth, like he could not do anything right, that he could never rise as a hero in his own right.  And when he found love and happiness, they tried to turn it into a weapon against him by harassing his special lady when she made a bid for a slot on the Smash Ballot.  Throughout this tribunal, you will hear and possibly see things which will make your stomach turn and question your faith in humanity—but I ask you to keep your wits about you, listen carefully to the testimony of the witnesses and make sure these men will never bully another person again—by punishing them to the fullest extent of the law.  Thank you.”

              Kovacs took her seat, brushed a stray tendril of hair from her face, and smiled to herself.  She’d argued cases like this one, and most of them had resulted in a “guilty” verdict.  Nothing nauseated her more than seeing blatant hate in the modern world.  The fact that these people could torment this man in green, possibly shattering his psyche, just because he yearned to escape his famous brother’s shadow, appalled her.  She half-expected the hate to be a racist type of deal, but this?  It was beyond her.

              Hate and prejudice were pesky stowaways in Alexis Kovacs’s life.  She’d become well acquainted with them as a Jewish-American girl growing up in upstate New York.  Two of her grandparents perished in the Holocaust, and her parents just barely survived that horror.  Throughout most of her schooling, derogatory terms and remarks had been tossed her way, and she was the favorite target of the meanest “mean girls” who ever lived.  A charming guy even asked her out on a date, but she discovered that it was a monstrous trap.  The harassment was physical and verbal, and she was twice denied entry into law school because of her background.  The obstacles in her way would’ve broken most, but Alexis Kovacs had a dream, and she’d fulfill it if it killed her!  She was young, but she’d filed suit against the law school which had denied her and won.  And yes, the victory came with more harassment on campus as well as threats on her life and the lives of her friends.  Not only did she graduate early, with Highest Honors, but also she got her revenge, so to speak, on her bullies when she busted one of them for cheating on the Bar and later put half of them behind bars for drugs, domestic violence, hate crimes, fraud, DUI and more.  Now, as the Assistant District Attorney, Kovacs had waged war against the hate which had tried to break her down.

              She let out a breath and sneaked a glance at Luigi, clad in a business suit and tie, Daisy sitting next to him in a form-fitting dress.  She wasn’t going to let them down.  She was going to win this.

              The defense attorney rose and presented his argument:

              “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I’ll be brief.  Just two days ago, my clients endured a vicious assault at the hands of the man they allegedly bullied.  At least one of them is permanently blind, all of them are permanently scarred and in constant pain, and they are barely able to walk.  They sustained broken bones and endured unimaginable torture—one of them suffered the most traumatizing fate known to man!  The costs for these men to obtain prosthetics, pain medication and physical and emotional therapy are enormous.  They were going about their daily lives when that man in green trespassed on their property and attacked them simply because they told him the truth about his existence.  Furthermore, this man spends more time rescuing princesses, kart racing, playing sports and going to parties than doing actual plumbing.  So, while listening to these proceedings, ask yourself this question: who is the real bully?”

              He sat down and smirked at Kovacs.  This man could care less about the less fortunate.  As far as he was concerned, they could all go back where they came from.  The smarmy, black-hearted lawyer never saw misfortune a day in his life as a member of a wealthy, powerful and socially and politically-connected family.  He was educated in private schools, entertained at parties in his parents’ lavish manor and was given a manor of his own on his 21st birthday.  Today could be the day everything clicked for him.  Yeah, he’d extorted or swindled many out of their life savings and landed any who dared to challenge him in the poorhouse for the rest of their lives, but this was what he was waiting for.  Humiliating this Italian-American from Brooklyn in open court and then sending him back there with his tail between his legs, and then watching his clients profiting off his suffering until his dying day.

              “Very well,” said Master Core.  “You may now call witnesses.”

              One by one, Kovacs called the moles spying in Sakurai’s lair to the stand.  They detailed excessive accounts of the defendants congratulating bullies over the phone for their pointless acts against Luigi, from pranks to bloody beatings (on and off the battlefield).  They revealed that Sakurai had a plan in the works long before Project Nerf to keep Luigi at the bottom of the tier list, and that the removal of wavedashing in Brawl had been a step in that direction.  They provided tape and video recordings of closed-door meetings between Sakurai, the Bennigan Brothers and their cronies, trying to dream up reasons to exclude Luigi from the tournaments or to make things so Hellish for him that he wouldn’t want to go anymore.  Sakurai had actually approved the Bennigan Brothers’ decision to send Stuart in to upend life for the green-clad Smasher.  One of the moles surrendered the invoices for the checks and G sent to the bullies.

              Of course, the defense tried to paint them as participants of a corporate espionage plot, but Kovacs and her witnesses had come prepared.  They pulled “the smoking gun”—they had contacted police to voice their suspicions on the Bennigan Brothers and Sakurai, and were later deputized and sent to the lair to collect evidence.  They’d been supervised by an undercover police officer who suggested that they wear green hats, beanies or berets to identify themselves to Luigi if the need arose.

              The defense also sought to score points by calling relatives and friends of the defendants to testify, saying that they’d never hurt anyone and this came as a shock to them.  But Kovacs poked holes in their little charades, forcing them to admit that they were aware of their actions and did nothing about it, allowing it to continue.  Then, the defendants themselves were called to the stand.  They blubbered, shed crocodile tears, and put on nice little victim acts for the jury as they talked about how Luigi stormed the lair and “struck fear into the hearts of those inside”.  They neglected to include how the man in green had left a handful of minions relatively unscathed, save for some bruises.  The Bennigan Brothers even tried to portray Sakurai as a dictator who bossed them around and used intimidation to get them to do his bidding, threatening their families if they disobeyed him.  Kovacs saw through them, and through skillful questioning, uncovered one discrepancy in their stories after another.  As their façade cracked, they became hostile and defensive and started lashing out.  The Mii jurors exchanged looks.  In those moments, they knew who the true bullies were—and the true bullies were the defendants.

              Late in the afternoon, after a two-hour recess, Luigi was ready for his day in court.  He strode in and calmly sat at the witness stand, hands folded in his lap.

              After he was sworn in, Kovacs began to question him.

              “How long have you been bullied, Luigi?”

              “Most of my life, Counselor.”

              “Are the main perpetrators of this bullying in this courtroom?”

              “Yes, they are.”

              “Can you identify them?”

              Luigi pointed straight at the defendants.  “There,” he said vehemently.  “There they are.”

              “Let the record show that the witness has positively identified the defendants,” Kovacs told the jurists.  “Now, Luigi, can you tell me why you decided to confront these bullies directly?”

              “I tried to let the powers-that-be handle it, but they’ve always given the perpetrators the benefit of the doubt or acted like it wasn’t there, hoping it would go away.  But since the bullying was overlooked, it gradually got worse.  I was threatened with cruel fates if I ever told anyone.  They made me feel so helpless, and I was tired of feeling that way.  So, I just snapped.”

              “But then you gave the powers-that-be another chance, is that correct?”

              “I did.  I decided not to hold grudges against people anymore.  Then, the Smash Ballot drama happened, and Daisy was passed up.  I tried to move on from it, but then I found out that the heads of the tournament knew in advance.  It hurt me more than anything, and I just wanted to know why they didn’t tell me.  Then, I kind of lost my temper on them.  I cooled off, but that’s when I discovered the cyberbullying.  I thought the matter was being handled too delicately, and they thought the measures I took were too drastic.”

              “And that’s why you decided to take care of the bullies yourself?”

              “Yes, Counselor.  I made it my mission to track down the people doing this to me and make them pay.  But in the process, I found out some pretty unsettling stuff.”

              “Like what?”

              “Like with Spike, and what he and his friends liked to do to my fans and his fiancée.  Like Cerena’s greedy and corrupt family.  Coupled with the massacre in Orlando, I needed to recuperate.  So, I went back.”

              “What made you want to continue your mission?”

              “Spike, along with Cere’s parents and sister, were arrested and brought to trial.  The SEC made Cere’s family give their company to her.  Then, the Smash Mansion was attacked, and the lawyer representing Cere’s family broke into her secret hideout and attacked her.  I was upset and had words with the final bosses over it.  Then, Spike and the others were found guilty, only for Spike to have his conviction overturned shortly thereafter.  And when I turned to the Hands for comfort, Crazy Hand— _snapped_ at me.”  He took a deep breath and continued.  “Adding to that, I discovered that two Smashers—two close friends of mine—were in league with these people, and furthermore, that my down throw nerf last year and Daisy’s rejection had been deliberate.  The Smash Ballot had been rigged, and the nerf was a conspiracy.  Project Nerf and Operation Ballot Box.  The last straw was when Crazy had Peach nerfed because she tried to stick up for me.  So, I went to New York, located Sakurai’s lair and confronted them.  They were all unapologetic and smugly gloated about what they’d done to me.”

              Luigi then played the recording of Sakurai admitting everything, and then revealed everything else he’d discovered with Evan and Mandy’s help, along with the stuff Mario and Peach had uncovered.

              Kovacs asked Luigi a few more questions about his knowledge of Project Nerf, Operation Ballot Box, and the mockery, hate and harassment he’d faced resulting from both events.  He recounted numerous instances of salt toward him regarding his down throw, most noticeably Falco’s outburst, which led to the avian’s involvement in Project Nerf.  Finally, he talked about the sexually charged comments toward Daisy and the disturbances by her enemies in her castle.

              Once Kovacs was finished, the defense came at Luigi, guns blazing (figuratively speaking, of course), and tried to make him look violent and impulsive in the jury’s eyes.  He brought up the moments of jealousy over Mario getting most of the credit.  He tried to break Luigi with the Chaos Heart business.  He tried to dismiss the allegations against his clients as “myths and speculation” from Luigi’s “cult following”.  However, Luigi kept his cool and asserted that the defendants attacked him first, psychologically as well as physically, and so he fought back.

              Finally, it was time for Luigi to step down from the stand.  He noticed that the defendants looked considerably rattled.  As far as he was concerned, that was for the best.

              Daisy rose and made her way to the front to deliver a victim impact statement.

              “The reason you’re here today is plain and simple,” she said.  “You stole from us.  You stole our peace of mind, our dignity, and nearly stole our reason to live.  Luigi and I are a happy, loving couple, yet you can’t find a reason to leave us in peace.  Every December 15, we will have to remember the moment when one of our greatest dreams was forever buried in the dust.  Every September 30 will bring memories of a down throw nerf the man I love didn’t deserve.  Now that we know that you perpetuated and promoted these injustices against us, we don’t know who we can trust anymore, and _if_ we can trust anyone anymore.  I know you spent the proceedings crying about what Luigi took from you that day, but the only thing he did in that building was take back what you stole from us.”

              Primly, Daisy returned to her seat.  Luigi beamed proudly.  “Good job, Daisy,” he said.

              Daisy nodded.  “Short, sweet and to the point,” she murmured.

              “Now we will hear the closing arguments,” said Master Core.

              The defense attorney strolled over to the jurists and flashed them a high-wattage smile as he began.

              “Luigi Mario is a damaged, disturbed young man.  He thinks that he should be held in the same regard as Mario.  But what has he done to deserve it?  Hide behind his braver, stronger older brother?  The truth is that he can’t appreciate the role bestowed upon him to begin with—the role of the faithful sidekick.  He’s in Mario’s shadow for a reason—he can’t handle a full-on heroic mission.  All my clients have done is encourage him to accept that reality.  Instead, he physically lashed out at them in the worst way possible.  In addition to the injuries he inflicted on them, he caused significant property damage.  After this experience, my clients need medical care and counseling, not a jail cell.  Please, do not add to their burden with by condemning them to a dark, harsh and unpredictable place.  Thank you.”

              Kovacs stood, smoothed her skirt and launched into her own closing argument.

              “While Luigi indeed took the wrong approach to the situation, he’s not the one on trial here.  These five are.  And in retrospect, the damage he dealt them was minimal compared to the seventeen-plus years’ worth of damage they dealt him.  They manipulated the tournament mechanics themselves for the sole purpose of making him an easy target for bullies.  They tampered with the Smash Ballot to separate him from his Princess.  They paid bullies to continue using Luigi as a punching bag and goodness knows what else.  They easily manipulated those who were supposed to protect him into thinking that all was quiet on the home front.  His decision to drastically take matters into his own hands was a result of that manipulation.  Thanks to the defendants’ actions, it may take years of therapy to help Luigi fully recover from the severe emotional scarring he sustained.  A “guilty” verdict for these men equals the first step toward closure for Luigi, Daisy and everyone close to them.  Thank you.”

              The Mii jurors deliberated for only 90 minutes.  When the tribunal reassembled, it was time for the verdict to be announced.

              Master Core called for order.  “Has the jury reached a verdict?”

              “We have, Master Core,” replied the foreperson.

              “Will the defendants please rise?”

              The defendants stood, along with their lawyer.

              “On the count of conspiracy, how do you find?”

              “We, the jury, do find the defendants—guilty.”

              “On the count of crimes against humanity, how do you find?”

              “We, the jury, do find the defendants—guilty.”

              “On the count of crimes against a participant of the Super Smash Brothers tournament, how do you find?”

              “We, the jury, do find the defendants—guilty.”

              Master Core then turned to the now-convicted parties.  “Is there anything you’d like to say before Master Hand and I pronounce sentence?”

              “Tell our folks that we love them,” said Vincent, “and that Luigi and his supporters can kiss our butts for all we care.”

              “Vincent, Emmanuel and Shane Bennigan,” said Master Core.  “I hereby impose upon you a sentence of 25 years to life, with the possibility of parole, in the Smashville Penitentiary.  Masahiro Sakurai, I hereby impose upon you a sentence of house arrest for a period of 30 years, with a possibility of parole in 15 years.  Furthermore, your services as the tournament’s financier are terminated, effective tomorrow.  You have until midnight tonight to arrange your affairs, and a successor will be chosen by me.  As for you, Crazy Hand…”

              “Dad, I’ve got this,” Master Hand broke in.  “Crazy Hand, you betrayed this tournament, the world of Nintendo, and most of all, your family.  Therefore, you are hereby stripped of your powers as assistant master of ceremonies for Super Smash Brothers, and I impose upon you a sentence of banishment to the Minus World for all eternity.  May God have mercy on your soul.”  He turned to the Mii Fighters who had walked in.  “Take them away,” he ordered.

              The Bennigan Brothers, Sakurai and Crazy Hand were all crying in earnest as the Mii Fighters put them in handcuffs and chains and escorted them from the room.

              Luigi smirked at them as they slit their eyes at him in passing.  “See you at your first parole hearing,” he spat, “and by the way, you should expect something special from me in the mail tomorrow.”  He offered Sakurai a mocking half-salute before the door closed after them.  

               


	76. Interlude: Introspection

_**Luigi’s POV** _

           **As soon as I hear the “guilty” verdict for the five people who ruined my life, tears of relief prickle at my eyes.**

**I’m free.**

**No more will I be trolled, tormented or nerfed unjustly.  For once in my life, the public sees things my way and agrees that they needed to be severely punished for their crimes.  And for once in my life, the justice system is on my side.  Those Bennigan Brothers are going away for a long time, and I’m sure the other guys in the yard will eagerly give them a proper greeting, if you know what I mean.  I will never have to deal with a Bennigan again, and I’m so grateful.  I kinda wished Daddy Sakurai would have to face jail time, but I guess house arrest isn’t so bad compared to the civil suit I filed against him.  I’ll let him relax in his penthouse apartment or wherever he lives in for now, because it won’t be long before he can no longer afford it.**

**I’m free.**

**I seem to float out of the room with Daisy, where I’m greeted by cheers and pats on the back.  I did it.  I finally beat them, for good this time, and helped give them all what they soundly deserve.  For the first time in what seems like forever, I will sleep well.**

**After a long day of testifying and watching those bullies get theirs, I’m exhausted.  I head up to my room, kick off my shoes and lay on my bed.  I stare at the awards on my wall and the trophies lining my shelves.  Seventeen years ago, I wouldn’t have believed I’d ever win one.  My eyes travel to the ceiling, and my mind drifts.**

**Dr. Mario is right.  Master Hand and Master Core are right.  Revenge won’t undo what’s transpired, and I should’ve talked to somebody.  But what if they didn’t believe me?  My tormentors had thrived under the benefit of the doubt for years, and that made me raw.  Images of them hurting and bleeding and groveling at my feet danced in my head.  I wanted to ruin them, and I did.  And I enjoyed it immensely, and even though agree with Master Hand that it was a poor choice, I’m still not sorry.  And I never will be.**

**Everyone understands why I did it, especially Daisy.  She admits how much she wanted to join in.  But once again, grudges got me into trouble with Master Hand.  They kept me from thinking rationally and from living a healthy and productive life.  They turned me into someone nearly unrecognizable.  And Mario and Peach’s grudge against Crazy Hand got them suspended for a while.  I think that since something is finally being done, I can try again.  I can start forgiving again.  I can start loving again.  And I can start rebuilding my relationships with Master Hand and Master Core.  Also, I’m eager to know who Sakurai’s successor will be.**

**Dr. Mario is right about something else.  I’ve had so much happen to me that it’s left psychological scar tissue, and I need to address my past to fully move on from it.  Only then will the nights decimating Sandbag after Sandbag finally stop, and my sleep will be filled with dreamy dreams instead of nightmares and flashbacks.  A psychiatrist is just what I need to make peace with tormentors old and new, once and for all.  And since Dr. Mario gave this particular psychiatrist a vote of confidence, I feel like I’ll be in good hands.**

**I close my eyes as the knot of anger fully loosens from my chest, my destructive fury melting away like fog in the sunshine.  A brand new me has emerged from the wreckage of my rampage, someone who can learn to forgive and forget, as long as the apologies are sincere.  I need to focus more on the good which came out of being in Smash—the friends I made and the prior relationships which strengthened.  I need to stand by Daisy, because as we heal together, we’ll need each other more than ever.  The “someone hits me, and I’ll hit back harder” ideology has served me well, but now I have a new resolution: when it’s done, let it be done and move forward.**

**Kovacs said that a “guilty” verdict for those bullies would bring me closure.  And she’s right.**

**Do you know what else will bring me closure?**

**The upcoming civil suit.**

**Since they’ve lost their freedom for a finite amount of time, I’ll take away something that’ll take longer for them to regain.  Their money.  And given the mountain of evidence and their lack of remorse for their actions, I have a good shot at winning.  Perhaps being forced to give up a hefty portion of cold, hard cash will sober them up.  But I highly doubt it.**

**Sighing deeply, I drift off to sleep.**

**The next morning, I wake up, shower and dress in fresh clothes.  I’ve contacted my new ace attorney, and I’m going to meet him today.  After shooting a text to Daisy, I hop into a Warp Pipe to the law office.**

**Daisy’s already there when I arrive, chatting up our ace attorney.  He’s a handsome and dedicated young man, dressed in a light blue suit and pants, a white dress shirt and a red tie.  His jet-black hair is nicely slicked back, and I see fire and energy in his eyes.  I like him already.**

**“Good morning, Luigi,” the two greet in unison when they see me stride in.**

**“Good morning,” I say, sitting in the chair next to Daisy and offering my hand to the ace attorney, which he firmly shakes.  “It’s an honor to have you aboard, Mr. Wright.”**

**“Please,” he smiles, “call me Phoenix.”**


	77. Salve

              Luigi and Daisy’s lawsuit was meaty, indeed.  Damages, civil rights, harassment, pain and suffering and willful and malicious infliction of physical and emotional distress.  And they had the tapes and documents to back it all up, which Phoenix had quickly notarized upon taking the case.

              Over the next few days, Luigi, Daisy and Phoenix met up for breakfast, lunch or dinner to look over their case to make sure the “t’s” had been crossed and the “i’s” had been dotted.  There could be no loose ends, no loopholes for their enemies to exploit.  Everything had to be airtight and watertight.  And thanks to careful planning and organizing, it was.

              And help was on the way.  Mario and Peach had decided to add their names to the suit, but they were only interested in going after Crazy Hand.  They’d also brought notarized documents with them to supplement the evidence.  Evan and Mandy also wanted in, despite Mandy suffering frequent bouts of nausea.  When Val and Evelyn learned of the case, they also wanted to pitch in, as did Paul.  Cerena, hearing from the grapevine that the brains of the bullying network had been brought down, also volunteered her services, bringing Alessa, Lauren, Christine, Justine, Todd and Luigi fans old and new with her.

              The day of the hearing finally arrived.  As the sun rose, Luigi woke up and dressed in a pressed business suit, wolfed down a bagel, and met Daisy’s limousine as it stopped by the Smash Mansion.  Daisy was also attired in a business suit, a string of pearls around her neck.  The two held hands as the limo stopped to pick up the other plaintiffs in the case.  Finally, they picked up Phoenix, ready to do battle despite his limited background in civil law.

              Driving to the courthouse, everyone was silent, getting into their zones, so to speak.  They knew that their opponents had nothing left to lose, now that they were facing varying degrees of imprisonment for their crimes.  They’d throw everything they had at them, but they couldn’t afford to break under the pressure.  So much was on the line.

              Thankfully, they arrived at the courthouse early.  When the limo pulled into the parking lot, Phoenix, Evan, Mandy, Mario, Peach, Val, Evelyn, Cere, Alessa, Lauren and the other Luigi fans spilled out and marched determinedly into the courtroom.  Daisy then turned to her driver.

              “You may leave,” she said.  “Luigi and I will be inside shortly.”

              She activated the privacy screen and turned to her plumber.  He looked nervous despite his confidence in the suit and in Phoenix.  Daisy scooted over and sat on his lap, her arms sliding over his shoulders as she smiled reassuringly at him.

              “Don’t look so jittery,” she said perkily.  “We’re gonna take these people.  I can feel it.”

              “They’re gonna play dirty,” fretted Luigi.

              “Then we’ll make sure they don’t get away with it,” Daisy whispered in his ear before kissing him.

              Luigi deepened the kiss, taking her in his arms, licking all over her warm, moist mouth and playing with her tongue with his.  They grabbed at the lapels of each other’s suit jackets and pulled them closer, kissing hungrily.  And then Luigi slid his hands under Daisy’s jacket and anchored them on her strong, supple hips, feasting on her mouth and then slowly breaking the kiss, a thin trail of saliva connecting their mouths.

              “Let’s get rid of these jitters of mine, shall we?” he asked as he eased off her blazer and shrugged out of his, her fingers immediately going to work on his belt as his fingers nimbly worked on her blouse, having it unbuttoned and off her in seconds.  After she unbuckled his belt, she unfastened his green tie and unbuttoned his white shirt.  Now, they kicked off their shoes and socks and sat, facing each other in their skivvies.

              Daisy smiled as she pulled a box of wet wipes from her purse and set it down behind the driver’s seat.  As she leaned back to do so, Luigi secured his palms on the small of her back to support her, placing slow, delightful and wet kisses along her abdomen, marveling at her perfectly round navel as it quivered and danced.  He trailed his kisses to her right flank and then licked his way across, and then back again.  And then kissed and licked his way to her hips, and back up, between her ribcage, placing his mouth directly at her navel, rounding his lips and blowing.

              “Oooooh…” whispered Daisy.

              While he blew into her innie, he unfastened her bra and slid off her panties before shimmying out of his briefs.  Gradually, he began to move his body over hers, kissing up and up and up, wetting his lips before driving her wild with open-mouthed kisses between her domes, all over her chest and collarbone, up her neck, and—

              He slipped inside her, and then she knew nothing else.

              Words came out of her in a nonsensical jumble.  Her breasts bounced against his chest.  He thrust, ardent and strong, his hips welding and crashing with hers.  With each deep, passionate thrust were buckets of tension he’d carried with him for days.  Inside and out, she hugged and soothed him.  Clutter was cleared from his mind and exported to his shroom, to be translated into pleasure for his Flower Princess.  The doors were locked and the windows were tinted; they wouldn’t be interrupted anytime soon.  His body swiveled and ground and undulated as deeply as it could, his voice whispering to her in his native tongue, admiring her buds as they dragged, frictionless, along his pecs, their pelvises beating against one another, his shroom encased in a cozy hug—

              Again and again, she screamed his name.  He looked into her eyes and saw them dilating with lust, and that look almost drove him into an explosion.  His rhythm steadied and his warm body slicked with sweat.  He breathed in deep gasps while continuing to let out as much tension as possible, and he could tell she was doing the same.  He’d sometimes let his lips suckle her neck, her earlobe or toy with her buds as she gripped his back and shrieked at him not to stop.  Then, he increased his speed once more until he felt the small shudders, and began to slow as her skin went taut.  Speeding and slowing, speeding and slowing, making pleasure invade every orifice of her brain before letting go.  God, she was really clamping down on him, and his body jerked slightly each time her flower petals throbbed.  Then, his mushroom started to throb, and he kept up with the speeding and slowing to savor the sensation of them throbbing together.  Her lovely skin was pink and shimmering, trails of sweat tracing patterns.  His waist convulsed as he pistoned even deeper, bliss washing over him, stars dancing a jig before his eyes and sparkles flying everywhere.  His shroom began to leak, at it wouldn’t be long before the floodgates opened!

              When Daisy arched her back, her body clenching and writhing, Luigi totally lost it.  He screamed out and burst open, the last of his tension falling away.  Molten wetness assaulted both their senses as her flower pot received his liquid love and she gave back with her own liquid love.  He delivered buckets and buckets of his love, spasms wracking him and his limbs feeling wobbly.  He supported himself on his elbows so he wouldn’t flatten her, moaning languidly as he emptied.  She panted, and then sighed, her body now tightly pressed against his, spurting and spraying.  He hugged her close as they jerked through the aftershocks.  And finally, when the last jets of their love had been dispensed, they lay there for a moment, kissing and touching and making out.

              “Feel better?” asked Daisy.

              “Immensely,” smiled Luigi.

              Wet wipes and some paper towels painlessly cleaned up the evidence, and then they quickly dressed, got out of the car and walked, arm in arm, to the courthouse to join their friends.

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              Inside the courtroom, heads turned as Luigi and Daisy strolled in, all business, smelling blood like a pair of hungry sharks.  Or, more appropriately, two survivors of a devastating war.  They took their seats next to Phoenix, who had the necessary documents neatly arranged in his briefcase.

              “You two worked out some tension?” he asked.

              “Yes,” said Daisy.  “You ready?”

              “I’m always ready,” winked Phoenix.  “You guys ready?”

              “We’re ready,” his two clients replied in unison.

              “So are we,” said Evan.

              “Let’s do this!” Paul cried jubilantly.

              They turned as the doors opened.  A phalanx of police escorted the defendants in.  The Bennigan Brothers and Sakurai were dressed in Italian suits, and Crazy Hand was encased in a violet sphere.  Most of the gallery booed and hissed as the defendants proceeded to their table, but they quickly calmed down upon seeing the police presence.

              The five defendants glared at the plaintiffs, who bravely glared back.  Not a word was exchanged, but the defendants’ eyes promised death for daring to humiliate them further by dragging them into a civil case.

              Just let them try something with security watching their every move.

              “All rise,” ordered the bailiff.  “Court is now in session.  The Honorable Judge Emilia Donnelly presiding.”

              Clad in her flowing robes, Judge Donnelly walked into the courtroom and took her seat.  “You may be seated,” she said.  “We are here today in the matter of Luigi Mario and Princess Daisy of Sarasaland versus Vincent Bennigan, Emmanuel Bennigan, Shane Bennigan, Masahiro Sakurai and Crazy Hand.  The plaintiffs seek payment for damages, pain and suffering, civil rights, harassment and emotional distress.  I will now hear opening arguments.”

              “Give ‘em heck, Phoenix,” whispered Daisy as their ace attorney rose.

              “Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury—you are about to hear the truth about those charming men in suits, about the monsters they truly are.  Under their watch, Luigi Mario was physically and emotionally abused by bullies for as long as he can remember.  So horribly, in fact, that he has recently turned to street justice to right these wrongs.  Then, Princess Daisy fell victim to their bullying tactics, just because she supported the man she loved.  She was wrongfully denied entry into a fighting tournament, and Luigi was wrongfully nerfed, just because the defendants enjoyed seeing them suffer.  I would like you all to consider the facts presented before you throughout this trial, and to make the right decision to end years and years of suffering.”  His eyes blazed, and his voice boomed with passion as he spoke.

              Offering the jury one final smoldering look, Phoenix sat back down.  “I think we’re off to a good start,” he whispered to his clients.

              The Bennigan Brothers’ attorney rose to speak.  “My clients were recently sentenced to 25 to life in a maximum-security prison,” he began.  “Three of them, to be exact.  The other two were sentenced to house arrest and an eternity in the Minus World, respectively.  This occurred after they were physically and emotionally scarred and mutilated by a man in green because he couldn’t accept that he is, always has been and will always be Player Two.  He and his spoiled Princess dragged us here because they haven’t finished having their fun.  They want to take and take and take until nothing is left.  Throughout these proceedings, the truth of their selfishness will come to light.  I sincerely hope you will see them for the creatures they really are and bring my clients’ suffering to an end.”

              Vince clapped a hand on his attorney’s shoulder as he sat back down.  “Good one, buddy,” he smiled.

              “You may start calling witnesses,” said Judge Donnelly.

              “I call Luigi to the stand,” said Phoenix.  To his client in question, he whispered, “You’ve got this, pal.  I know you do.”

              Luigi rose, smoothed his suit, and took the witness stand, his eyes twinkling as the bailiff swore him in.

              “Luigi, could you please tell the court when and how the bullying started?” asked Phoenix.

              “It started shortly after Mario and I rescued Peach for the first time, in 1985,” said Luigi.  “People constantly teased me about my role as Player Two and about how I’m destined to remain in Mario’s shadow.  At first, I thought I could handle it, because it wasn’t physical—yet.”

              “And when did it get physical?” asked Phoenix.

              “In the early 90s.  The physical stuff started off as sabotage.  Dumping Fizzies into my swim meet, heckling me during sporting events and throwing tomatoes, tying my shoelaces together, trying to discredit Mario Bros. Plumbing—things like that.  But when I arrived for Super Smash Brothers in 1999—that’s when it really started.”

              “Is it true that people took advantage of the nature of the tournament to beat you up?”

              “Yes.  Yes, they did.  On and off the battlefield.”

              “Did anyone come to your aid?”

              “Yes.  The perps were suspended, but it never stopped them.  Bullies ganged up on me and beat me to a bloody pulp when they had the chance.  Then, they’d steal my lunch and make me watch them eat it, call me names, talk about how I was last on the tier list, and threaten everyone close to me with a fate worse than death if I ever tattled on them.  They made me feel powerless.”

              “When you rescued your brother in 2001, did it lessen?”

              “Only a little bit.  Then, they’d try to use it against me and began mocking the nightmares I’d have over it.”

              “What about after the Subspace adventure?”

              “They kinda backed off me because they knew if it weren’t for my efforts, they would’ve been trophies for the rest of their lives.  After we beat Tabuu, I felt less powerless and started fighting back against the bullies.  I even faced one of them in a standard match and almost won.”

              “How did they react to your year?”

              “They called it ‘a pity party’.  I knew their politeness was reluctant.”

              “And when it ended?”

              “It was open season for me, and they all wanted to make up for lost time,” sighed Luigi.  “After Sakurai rudely pulled the plug on my year, I felt years and years of anger welling up inside of me.  I knew that I couldn’t take anymore injustices against me.  My Mario Kart Death Stare was only the beginning of the fireworks.  And by the time the fourth tournament rolled around, I decided that I’d really had enough.  That’s when I started taking my revenge.”

              “And you never suspected that the defendants had a hand in it?”

              “Not until recently.”

              “Would you care to elaborate on that?”

              “After Spike Plaxwell had his conviction overturned, I was distraught and turned to the Hands for comfort.  Then, Crazy Hand snapped at me.  He apologized, and I tried to forgive him, but when evidence turned up that my down throw and the Smash Ballot were all ammunition against me, I started having suspicions about him.”

              Phoenix held up a folder thick with files.  “Exhibit A—Project Nerf,” he said.  Placing the file before Luigi, he opened it and took out some photos.  “Do you recognize anyone?”

              Luigi nodded.  “There—are the Bennigan Brothers,” he said.  “And there are the Smashers who assisted them.”

              “Do you see any more of the defendants?”

              “The Smashers in on the plot pointed the Bennigan Brothers toward Sakurai,” said Luigi.  “There he is, in a private meeting with one of the conspirators…”  He then proceeded to identify the defendants doing incriminating acts in each of the photos, verified the dissertations as Crazy Hand’s and matched the handwriting on the checks and money orders to Crazy Hand’s.  Phoenix also played the condemning tapes of the defendants gloating over their actions, as well as Crazy’s “shocking” interview.

              As Phoenix gave the file to the jury, he turned back to Luigi.  “Tell me about the events of December 15, 2015,” he said.

              “We were in the theater, watching the Nintendo Direct presentation.  I was so nervous and jittery, and I honestly thought Daisy had a chance.  We exchanged texts during intermission.  Then, Bayonetta was revealed as the winner, and—I was stunned.  My first impulse was to go to Daisy and comfort her.  I had no way of knowing that her rejection was deliberate.”

              “Exhibit B—Operation Ballot Box,” said Phoenix, presenting another file.  “Looking at these photos and documents, can you attest to the Bennigan Brothers’ involvement in this scheme?”

              “Yes.”

              “You gained wind of these conspiracies via a website, is that correct?”

              “Yes.”

              “Is it this website?” asked Phoenix, showing a screen image of the anti-Luigi website onto a projector.

              “Yes, it is.”

              “And did you trace it to the defendants?”

              “Yes, I did.  I even recorded Sakurai gloating about it.”

              Phoenix played the recording for all to hear.  “Is this Sakurai’s voice?”

              “It is.”

              Phoenix nodded.  “No more questions.”

              The defendants’ attorney strode toward Luigi.  “Why didn’t you consider going to the police about your problem?” he asked.

              “The bullies told me that they’d go after my loved ones if I told anybody, and I knew they meant it.  I didn’t know whether they were watching or not.”

              “And yet you continued going to these tournaments even though people were antagonizing you there?  I’d say the best way to remedy the situation is to stop going altogether.”

              “OBJECTION!” barked Phoenix.  “That was a statement and not a question!”

              “Withdrawn,” said the other attorney.  “Have you attempted to seek psychiatric help for being bullied?”

              “No.  I thought I could handle it.”

              “Would you say that you handled it well, given what has happened?”

              “Better than most.”

              “Would you care to elaborate?”

              “I would’ve been a hot mess if not for the friends I’ve made or a brother and a significant other to help me back on my feet,” said Luigi.

              “So, you’re saying that they’re okay with how you ‘handled’ this?”

              “OBJECTION!” barked Phoenix.  “Relevance—this is a civil hearing, not a criminal one.”

              “Sustained,” said Donnelly.  “Counselor, please keep your questions focused on the matter at hand.”

              “Apologies,” said the other attorney.  “Why were you upset when people kept telling you that you were the second player?”

              “I didn’t need to be reminded of it all the time,” said Luigi.  “It would’ve been more tolerable if it wasn’t the subject of relentless teasing and taunting.  The fact that I wasn’t credited as much as I should was stressful enough.”

              “And why did you feel that you deserved more credit than you received?”

              “Both Mario and I endured long, hard treks through eight worlds, facing fearsome enemies.  And during the big battle against Koopa, I took as many blows as Mario, perhaps more.  I risked my life for my big bro, and if it wasn’t for me, then he would’ve lost.  I just wanted people to consider that.”

              “Isn’t that what the term ‘sidekick means?”

              “OBJECTION!” shouted Phoenix.

              “Withdrawn,” the defense said meekly.  “Can you provide us with an example to support why you deserved more credit?”

              “During our last battle, Koopa breathed fire, threw hammers at us and slashed with his claws.  We had power-ups on us, but he seemed to be growing stronger.  At one point, he picked up Mario and slammed him against the bridge over and over, and then he squeezed him in his grip.  That turtle would’ve finished him off if I hadn’t intervened.  And when the bridge started to break apart, I pulled Mario back before he could fall into the lava.  And then we did our usual thing with the axe, and the battle was won.  Peach was grateful to both of us, but for some reason, Mario got most of the fanfare.  I was shocked.”

              “Are you saying that you’re resentful of them for overlooking your accomplishments?”

              “No.  Not at all.”

              “Then what is the source for your charges against my clients?”

              “They thought that the Player Two slot is where I should stay, and helped terrorize me so that I’d stay there.”

              “And you waited many years after to finally decide that you’ve had enough?”  Glancing at Phoenix, he quickly said, “Withdrawn.  Nothing further.”

              _Idiot,_ thought Luigi.  _He didn’t even have relevant questions for me._

              “Redirect, Your Honor,” said Phoenix as he approached Luigi.  “So, did people bully you only because you were a ‘sidekick’, or because of other things, such as your timid personality?”

              “Both, actually.”

              “Do you think your supposed cowardice was considered when the first tier list was made?”

              “Yes, I do.”

              “Do you think that it was Sakurai’s way of discouraging you from participating in Smash?”

              “Yes.  He confessed that to me himself.”

              Phoenix nodded.  “Thank you.  Nothing further.”

              Judge Donnelly nodded.  “The witness may step down.”

              The defense quickly called Vince to the stand.

              “Why do you think Luigi should stay the second player?”

              Vince straightened his tie.  “It was why he was created in the first place,” he answered smartly.  “He doesn’t do much anyway, so why should he get any credit?”

              “That’s why you supposedly bullied him, is that correct?”

              “Yes.”

              “Did you and my other clients wish to keep him in his place?”

              “Oh, yes.  He was trying to disrupt the status quo, first by participating in these sporting events and eventually fighting in tournaments.  Even after landing his own games, he’s still greedy and ungrateful, and his suit against us is the epitome of that.”

              “Do you feel that Luigi should’ve appreciated the role he was given?”

              “He should’ve accepted it.”

              “Why did he attack you?”

              “He was frustrated over the realization that he’d always be Player Two and wanted someone to take it out on, and unfortunately, me, my brothers and our two friends drew the short straw.”

              “Describe the nature of your supposed acts against Luigi.”

              “It was harmless fun, really.  Pull a few pranks, make some crank calls, take shots at him in cyberspace, jostle him around a little—it was nothing for him to get angry over.  I hope God forgives him as I forgive him myself.”

              “Thank you.  No further questions.”

              Phoenix stood and approached Vincent the way a traffic cop would approach a drunk or speeding driver.  He couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into this man.

              “You say that Luigi is frustrated over always being the second player,” he began.  “Why do you think it frustrates him?”

              “Because he’s selfish and always wants more,” smirked Vince.

              “If he’s indeed selfish, then do you think he would’ve left Mario trapped in those paintings?”

              “Objection,” the defense spoke up.  “Relevance.”

              “The witness has labeled Luigi as selfish, and I just want to know why he didn’t take advantage of the situation in question if that was the case,” explained Phoenix.

              “I’ll allow it,” said Judge Donnelly.  “Answer the question, Mr. Bennigan.”

              “I—I don’t think so,” stammered Vince.

              “Have you observed Luigi ever showing resentment toward his older brother?”

              “He hides it well; he’s a very good actor!” Vince was starting to sweat.

              “Yes or no, Mr. Bennigan?”

              “No, but…”

              “Let me rephrase the first question I asked.  What is it about being Player Two, in your opinion, that frustrates him the most?”

              “Well, the fact that his praises are rarely sung,” said Vince.

              “Do you think that the actions Luigi accuses you of also contribute to his frustration?”

              “No.”

              “No?  Isn’t the fact that his praises are rarely sung the reason why you mock him?”

              “Yes, but…”

              “You also say that your mocking is ‘harmless fun’,” Phoenix thundered.  He was on a roll now.  “I have some photos I’d like to show you, and I want you to tell me if they describe ‘harmless fun’.”

              Phoenix laid a dossier of photos before Vince, who shakily opened them.  The ace attorney smirked internally at the look of horror and shame creeping across the eldest Bennigan Bro’s features.  The photos he’d presented showed Luigi following a bully attack.  Luigi, bruised, bloodied and beaten on the floor of the men’s locker room or on the asphalt, tears rolling down his face.  Luigi, curled up against walls, hugging himself, despair in his eyes.  Luigi, drinks poured over him and splattered with Maxim tomatoes and other food, his eyes—dead.  Luigi, held by groups of bullies while another used him as a punching bag.  Luigi, being ducked in toilets.  Luigi, being administered a swirlie.  Luigi, hurting.  Bleeding.  Crying.  Suffering.  Holding on.  Trying not to fall apart.

              Vince was ashen.  “I—I…” he stammered.

              “Do you consider this ‘harmless fun’, Mr. Bennigan?” asked Phoenix.

              “No!  I knew nothing about this!” yelped Vince.

              “Then why are there checks written in your name to known bullies?” asked Phoenix, sliding forward the necessary evidence.  “Greeting cards encouraging them to ‘keep up the good work’?  Parties thrown almost every month in which you talk about torturing my client?”

              When Phoenix was done showing the evidence to Vince, he passed it along for the jury to look over.

              “Tell me something else, Mr. Bennigan—do you consider a nerf ‘harmless fun’?  Do you consider rigging the Smash Ballot to torture my clients ‘harmless fun’?  While you were rewarding bullies for your efforts, did you have a clue as to the nature of their acts?”

              “We just wanted to remind him,” Vince said dumbly.

              “Remind him of what?  That he’s Player Two?  That he’s a coward?  Withdrawn,” he broke in, taking a deep breath.  “When he came to talk to you, was he raging or yelling?”

              “No.  He was quite calm.”

              “Then do you think that his initial motive was to ask you to stop and try to figure out why you tortured him?”

              “Not really,” murmured Vince.  “No.”

              “Do you think that you instigated him into attacking you?”

              “No.  He instigated himself with his deluded fantasies.”

              Phoenix nodded curtly.  “No further questions.”

              Vince stepped down, looking as if his life was over.

              When Phoenix called Daisy up, she talked about how she and Luigi met and how he comforted her following her ordeal with Tatanga.  What started off as friendship became love, and love became a cherished bond withstanding the test of time.

              “What was your main reason for putting your name on the Smash Ballot?” asked Phoenix.

              “I’m only seen during parties and sports,” explained Daisy.  “I hoped that being a Smasher would showcase my tomboyishness and allow me to spend more time with Luigi.”

              “Did you think you would win?”

              “Yes.  I had a strong fan base.”

              “How did you feel when you lost to Bayonetta?”

              “At first, I was upset.  But Luigi comforted me, and with his help, I got over it.  I even stopped hating Bayo.  I figured, hey, maybe next time.  But then the cyberbullying and harassment started, targeting both of us.  We tried to ignore it, but then I had people jumping naked on tables when I held court, people throwing things at my castle, people exposing themselves to me, people storming my castle and even getting into my room—and then the incident with Koopa and Claude and their friends.”

              “I’m sorry to hear about that, Princess.”

              “Thank you.”

              “Did you suspect that your loss was a conspiracy?”

              “Sort of.  It was in the back of my mind, but I dismissed it as ridiculous superstition.  But when I received confirmation, I was floored.  I was also floored that two people who were supposed to be Luigi’s friends partook in it.”

              “Would you have done what Luigi did?”

              “Honestly—yes.”

              Phoenix smiled.  “Nothing further.”

              The defense stepped forward.  “You wanted to be in Smash to be closer to Luigi, correct?”

              “Yes.”

              “Couldn’t you have just written to each other?”

              “OBJECTION!” thundered Phoenix.

              “Withdrawn.  Is it true that you were upset over losing?”

              “A little.”

              “And in your distress, would you have wanted a reason to believe that your loss was deliberate?”

              “Not at all.”

              “If Luigi hadn’t comforted you, then would you have gone after my clients?  After Bayonetta?”

              “No.”

              “Is it true that you had the head of one bully placed on public display as a warning to others?”

              “OBJECTION!  Relevance,” Phoenix broke in.

              “Sustained,” said Judge Donnelly.

              “Is there solid evidence that my clients encouraged what happened with Koopa and Claude Mitchell?”

              “Yes.  We found money orders for them in the amount of 450G each.”

              “You don’t seem to be traumatized by that ordeal.”

              “OBJECTION!” Phoenix was nearly red in the face.

              “Withdrawn.  When you found out that Luigi stormed into that building, how did you react?”

              “I wished he’d at least run it by me first, but I understand why he did it.”

              “Would you have accompanied him?”

              “I don’t know,” murmured Daisy.

              “Nothing further.”

              Phoenix next called Peach and asked her questions regarding Crazy Hand and what she and Mario found out on him.  She confessed to attacking Crazy Hand late one night and pretending that she was okay with her suspension when she really wasn’t.  The defense tried to make her search for dirt on Crazy look like a grudge match, but Peach maintained her dignified manner and admitted that she lost her temper that night.

              Mario talked about how the fame inequality flavored his relationship with Luigi and colored their meetings on the battlefield.  But he was also quick to add that his younger brother loved him and stood by him regardless, and that any sibling duo clashed sometimes.  He detailed how he’d tried to stop the bullying and even tried to shield Luigi from the harsh truth regarding the Smash 64 tier list.  The rescues in 2001 and 2013 testified to Luigi’s unshakable loyalty, regardless of the fame situation.  The worst coming between them was nothing more than brotherly competition.

              “After Crazy Hand threw Luigi under the bus, I was so enraged,” said Mario.  “If Peach hadn’t gotten to him, then I would’ve done it myself without remorse.  Then, Crazy punished Peach for sticking up for Luigi, and that’s when I snapped.”

              Once again, the defense tried to twist Mario’s words and make it all look like a revenge plot, with no success.

              One by one, the Luigi fans had their say.  And as always, Cerena was full of surprises.  She revealed that Spike took her to meet the defendants, and that she had tape recorders on her during every meeting.  Turns out, they tried to help Spike groom his heir to work for Sakurai.  And when Cere was out of the room, the defendants encouraged Spike to “do what he must” to “cure” her of her “diseases” and “help her accept her destiny”.  Finally, she confirmed that Crazy Hand was not only behind the attack on the Smash Mansion but also responsible for sniffing her out to her crazed family lawyer, now relaxing in a minimum-security sanitarium when he belonged in prison.  The defense tried and failed to chalk her testimony up to family dysfunction.

              Last but not least, Daddy Sakurai was brought to the stand.

              “I served as the chief financier of the tournaments,” he said.  “Master Hand trusted me, and I was paid well for the job.  Also, I analyzed each fighter and helped construct the tier lists.  Luigi was considered the worst because of his floatiness, his poor traction, and his limited approach.”

              “Did you expect teasing to erupt from the tier list?” asked his attorney.

              “Of course not!  I was appalled!”

              “When did you learn that Crazy Hand had dark ulterior motives for co-hosting the tournament?”

              “When Luigi brought it to my attention during our confrontation.  I just never saw it coming.”  He wiped the false tears he’d summoned with a handkerchief.

              “Can you tell me about the Year of Luigi?”

              “It was a financial disaster.  I knew I had to end it, or we’d all be bankrupt.  I never thought Luigi would take it personally.”

              “What happened when he confronted you?”

              Sakurai burst into fake sobs.  “We argued, and then he yelled accusations at me.  Then, he slammed me onto the desk, beat me up and burned at cut me.  He scarred my body with horrible messages.  And then, he took the nightstick and the pole and—and…”  He dissolved into crocodile tears.

              “No further questions,” said his attorney, and Phoenix strode forward ready to tear this tyrant apart!

              “Did Master Hand give you any trouble during your tenure as financier?”

              “No.”

              “Did he ever talk to you about the tier lists?”

              “He expressed his displeasure, but I thought nothing of it.”

              “You thought nothing of it?  And yet you say you were appalled by the teasing it spawned?”

              “Yes, I was.”

              “I have a recording here which proves otherwise,” said Phoenix.  “You admitted to sticking Luigi at the bottom to spite him.  And you also admitted to enjoying a close friendship with Crazy Hand.”

              “We were, but that was before…”

              “You found out about his grudge against Luigi?  How could you have found out when you were in on it all along?”

              “That plumber put words in my mouth before savagely assaulting me!” charged Sakurai.

              “Ah, but I have concrete evidence which supports your admission.  Authorities combed through your offices and discovered not only checks and money orders written out to bullies, but also photos of you and Crazy Hand together.  You told Luigi that you two were ‘best buddies’, did you not?”

              “Yes, but…”

              “And that you didn’t question Master Hand’s decision to accept Luigi so you could find ways to make him miserable, is that true?”

              “Yes.”

              “And that you both enjoyed having fun at Luigi’s expense—did you say that as well?”

              “Yes…”

              “So,” said Phoenix.  “Is it true that you and your co-defendants spent most of Luigi’s existence trying to drag him down when he only sought to free himself from the stigma of being in the Player Two slot?”

              Sakurai’s voice sounded squeaky.  “Y-yes.”

              It was exactly what Phoenix wanted to hear.  An admission in open court.

              “We did those things, and we encouraged the bullies to reinforce that a fighting tournament wasn’t the place for Player Two,” Sakurai went on, looking at his lap.

              “Nothing further,” said Phoenix, turning away from Sakurai.

              After a recess, the two attorneys presented their closing arguments.

              “Since the inception of Super Smash Brothers, the defendants had colluded to make Luigi’s tenure as a Smasher so unbearable that he wouldn’t want to be a Smasher anymore.  The reason?  To prove a point.  To prove that Luigi, a ‘mere sidekick’ isn’t qualified to fight in a tournament.  To prove that Luigi, a ‘coward’ should stay at home where he belongs.  And when harassing him wasn’t enough, they dragged Daisy, the woman he loved, into the mess by denying her entry into the tournament and having people harass her and storm her castle, among other heinous things.  They doled out years of pain and suffering to my clients, but today is they day that they reap what they’ve sown.  Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I beseech you to compel the defendants to pay the full amount my clients have requested.  Thank you.”

              “No doubt, bullying is wrong and can lead to drastic consequences,” said the other attorney, “but my clients were only making a living and catering to public tastes.  It’s Mario, not Luigi, who’s the star of the show and who gets the Princess in the end.  And when Luigi and Daisy couldn’t accept that reality, they self-destructed and traumatized my clients.  Now, they seek to traumatize them further by bilking them of millions of dollars with their victim act.  The true victims here are my clients, and I hope you consider that as you deliberate.  Thank you.”

              Oh, the jury considered that when as they deliberated, all right.  It only took them 30 minutes to reach a unanimous decision.

              “Your Honor,” said the foreperson.  “We, the jury, find in favor of the plaintiffs.”

              “No!” screamed Sakurai.

              Judge Donnelly called for order before addressing the defendants.  “You are hereby ordered to pay Luigi Mario, Princess Daisy of Sarasaland and their respective fan bases $18,000 each, plus the medical expenses for the therapy they are currently seeking.  We are adjourned.”

              The courthouse erupted in celebration as the Luigi fans hoisted the plumber and his Princess onto their shoulders and carried them outside.  Phoenix followed, smiling broadly.

              Outside the courthouse, Luigi approached Phoenix and shook his hand.  “Thank you,” he said.

              “No, Luigi,” Phoenix said solemnly.  “Thank _you_.”  He then pulled his client into a hug.

              “We did it,” said Daisy.  “We finally did it.  The Bennigan Bros are headed for prison, Sakurai’s under house arrest, and Crazy Hand spends the rest of his life in the Minus World.  And they were forced to acknowledge what they did and pay up.”

              “Not only that,” said Mario.  “Sakurai has 72 hours to undo Peach’s nerf.”

              Peach nodded.  “Everything’s back to normal, and we couldn’t be happier.”  She took a deep breath.  “Time to move on with our lives.  Lunch is on me.”

              The victorious plaintiffs piled into the limo, drove away from the courthouse and never looked back.


	78. Healing

_**Four days later…** _

              “How do you feel?” asked Dr. Mario.

              “Better,” said Luigi.  “Not only were they punished in criminally, they’re now being forced to pay compensation and restitution.”

              “Closure,” said Dr. Mario.  “Finally.”

              “Indeed,” smiled Luigi.  “The good guys are finally listening to me and doing what they should’ve done years ago.”

              “So, you’re saying—that you’re giving Master Hand and Master Core and other figures of authority another chance?”

              “I am,” nodded Luigi.  “I feel like I can let them back in.”

              “I must say, this is excellent progress from when you saw me after your—trip,” gushed Dr. Mario.  “The civil suit _did_ help you.  How’s Daisy?”

              “She’s rebuilding her life, as well,” smiled Luigi.  “Hopefully, another sports tournament will roll around, so she can really show everyone what she can do!”

              “Wonderful,” murmured Dr. Mario.  “Hey, do you know about the Nintendo Switch?”

              “That fancy new console?  Oh, yeah!”

              “Some say that once this tournament is over, there will be a new tournament for the Switch,” said Dr. Mario, “so—Daisy shouldn’t count out being a Smasher.  There’s still hope.”

              “You’re right,” Luigi said softly.  “There is.  But—there’s just one thing I’m worried about.”

              “What’s that?”

              “What if—what if something happens to push me so far that I can never recover or trust anyone again?  Nothing’s ever set in stone, Doc.”

              “True,” said Dr. Mario, “but if you keep steady and think positive, then you can make the most of it.”

              “You give the best advice, Doc.”

              “And you’re the strongest patient I’ve ever taken on, Luigi.”

              Luigi blushed.  “You know—after everything that’s happened, do you think that—maybe—I should—forgive them?”

              Dr. Mario stroked his chin.  “Letting their actions fester inside you will only hinder your path to closure,” he said wisely.  “I think with all my heart that the answer to your question is—yes.  With forgiveness, you and Daisy can truly heal your wounds, permanently seal this epoch in your life and continue forward.  With forgiveness comes a fresh start.”

              “I’m just worried that they’ll take it for granted again,” sighed Luigi.

              “Oh, I’m sure they learned their lessons, now that they paid the piper,” Dr. Mario said cheerily.  “You’ll never know unless you try.”

              Luigi nodded.  “I’ll talk to Daisy about it, shall I?”

              “That’s a good idea, Luigi.  Thank you for stopping by.”

              “Thank you for the advice.”

              And the two men parted after exchanging friendly smiles.

# LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

              “Mandy, are you all right?” Meta Knight asked with concern.  He and Mandy had been in the middle of a heated match when the latter suddenly doubled over and threw up.  Spurred by his sense of chivalry, Meta had immediately called out for Xander to stop the match and then tended to his opponent.

              “I’m fine, I’m fine.  It’s just this stomach bug bothering me,” said Mandy.  For four straight days, she’d dealt with this nausea and vomiting.  It was mildly annoying at first, but it was quickly becoming an all-consuming problem.  “You—didn’t have to do that, Meta.”

              “I will not fight someone under the weather,” said Meta.  “It will put me at an unfair disadvantage.”

              Mandy sipped the flat ginger ale the masked knight brought her.  “You’re such an honorable fighter, Sir Meta,” she said softly.  “I should do something nice for you sometime.  A little birdie told me that you have your eye on Lucario again.”

              Meta blushed.  “Actually, I—I’m having dinner with him tonight,” he confessed.  “During the trial and the civil hearing, we kind of caught up, and his Aura sensed that I missed him.  Which I—did.  Perhaps Roy was—the rebound.”

              “I’m happy for you,” said Mandy.  “I really hope it works out for you two this time.”

              “Trust me,” said Meta.  “I have a feeling it will.”

              Evan ran over and took Mandy in his arms.  “Your stomach’s bothering you again?” he asked.

              “Yeah,” said Mandy.

              Evan then turned to Meta.  “Thank you,” he said, shaking the puffball’s hand.

              “No thanks necessary,” replied Meta.  “I wish Mandy a speedy recovery.”

              The Vidads nodded before heading up to their room.

              “Evan,” said Mandy.

              “Yeah?” asked Evan.

              “I don’t think this is a stomach virus anymore,” she confessed.

              She crossed the room to the drawer and opened it, extracting a small box and opening it.

              “I’m a few weeks late,” she went on.  “I need to make sure before I get too excited.”

              Unbridled hope was in Evan’s eyes.  “You mean…?”

              Mandy nodded.  “Yeah.  I’m sure we can arrange something with Master Hand.  But are _you_ ready?  I mean—this came out of the blue.”

              “Mandy, I’m ready for anything,” replied Evan, enfolding her in a hug.  “You’re gonna be an amazing mother.”

              “Save the soap-worthy speech till after I take the test,” eyerolled Mandy, pecking her husband on the lips and ducking into the bathroom.

              A few moments later, Evan heard muffled sobs and dashed into the bathroom.  Mandy knelt on the floor, in tears.

              “Mandy,” he said, heartbroken.  “I’m so sorry.  We can always try again…”

              “No, Evan!  Look!”  A wide smile was on Mandy’s face, and Evan realized that she’d been crying with joy.  He looked over at the test and began tearing up with joy, as well.

              It was positive.  A little Vidad was on the way.

# LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

## One week later…

“Smashers,” boomed Master Hand.  “I am proud to announce our new chief financier and our newest Smasher, Cerena Cydney Sparks!”

              Cerena choked back tears as she gazed out at the applauding crowd.  Months ago, she would’ve only dreamed this.  She would’ve been stuck in her gilded cage.  But she’d broken free and was living her life.  Head of a successful, fair and bias-free company.  President of a resurrected Luigi fan club.  Dance instructor.  Gay rights activist.  And now—a Smasher and the chief financier of Super Smash Brothers.

              She spotted Luigi in the crowd, cheering enthusiastically, his brother and his friends at his elbow.  He looked in a good place right now.  He’d been so damaged when they met in Las Vegas.  But with her help, he’d finally done it—he’d finally beaten those scumbags once and for all.

              “Thank you,” she said when the audience settled down.  “Smash is my life, and it’s something I’ve dreamed about since I was a girl.  But as chief financier, I swear I will do whatever it takes to keep it afloat.  I’d like to take the time to thank Luigi, my friends back at the fan club, and of course, Master Hand and Master Core for bringing me to this moment!  And now, let’s put our hands together and give it up for three more newcomers—Valentine O’Halloran, Evelyn Fisk and Paul Lieber!”

              Luigi leapt to his feet and whooped as Val, Evelyn and Paul strode out to join Cere.  Paul had a deep blush coloring his face, and he wore a vest displaying his Boy Scout badges for all to see.  Val and Evelyn held hands, dressed for success, and waved to Luigi.  They were happy to help him piece his life back together after the rough waters nearly foundered him.

              “Thank you for inviting me!” squealed Paul.

              “Thanks, everyone!” Evelyn chimed in.

              “You guys rock!” smiled Val.

              He pulled Evelyn into a hot kiss.  Then, a hush fell over the auditorium as he knelt and pulled out a ring.

              “Val…” gasped Evelyn.

              “I know we haven’t been together that long,” said Val, “but the time we’ve shared together has been the best time of my life.  Life isn’t a video game, and there are no continues, but if we can help Luigi through it, then I know we can help each other.  I love you, Evelyn Fisk.  Will you marry me?”

              “Yes!” replied Evelyn, kissing him hard.

              Everyone once again exploded into cheers.  Master Core wiped a tear from his eye.

              Super Smash Brothers was once again a happy, ego-free place.

# LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

              Later that night, Luigi lay in bed with Daisy, cuddling her, when she spoke up.

              “A coin for your thoughts?” she asked.

              “What would you say to forgiving the people who wronged us?” he volunteered.  “I know I’ve said they don’t deserve it, but—I’m just trying to move on from this.”

              “Well, it took a while, but I eventually got past my anger at Bayo,” Daisy said softly.  “I felt better, standing there and saying out loud that I didn’t hate her anymore.  And now that we’re seeing therapists, I believe that the only way we can make significant progress is through forgiveness.”

              “So—is that a ‘yes’?” asked Luigi.

              “Eventually—when it doesn’t hurt so bad—I can learn to forgive them,” replied Daisy, “but if you’re ready to absolve them, then I’m with you, one hundred percent.”

              Luigi smiled, and they began to kiss and fondle—

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              The next morning, a guard at the Smashville Penitentiary walked into the block where the Bennigan Brothers were housed.  “Message for you,” he said, slipping a piece of paper between the bars and continuing on his way.

              In Daddy Sakurai’s manor, which was currently being foreclosed by the bank, Sakurai’s butler walked into his employer’s room.  “A message for you, sir,” he said.

              Sakurai looked up from his work in writing restitution checks to the Luigi fans.  Wordlessly, he took the slip of paper from the butler, who walked out of the room.

              And in the Minus World, where Crazy Hand floated in the endless void, a small strip of paper floated towards him.

              “What the…?” he murmured as it landed squarely on his index finger.

              All three slips of paper contained the same, three-word message.

              _I forgive you. —L_

 

             

 

 


	79. Soothe Me

              His face was buried in her flower pot, her legs wrapped around his shoulders, as he licked and sucked like a starving man.  Both of her hands were in his hair, grabbing onto his scalp, but not too roughly, feeling his head bob up and down and hearing the naughty slurping sounds of him feasting on her.  The castle was empty; all of Daisy’s employees had retired for the day, and it was just the two of them.  So, she exercised no restraint as she screamed from his pleasure, sitting on her couch with Luigi kneeling before her, working his mouth and tongue against her core, pausing only to catch his breath.

              “Daisy…” he gasped.  “I can’t believe—almost a year ago—I was comforting you when you lost—in this very room…”

              “Yeah,” she sighed as his tongue flicked against her walls.  “You did a good job of helping me forget—now can you help me forget about what’s happened recently?  Please?”

              “I’ll do an extra-special job, since you asked me so nicely,” replied Luigi.

              His tongue found the place where he knew she’d be driven wild and attacked it with a vengeance, her muscles writhing and pulsing around his mouth.  He held her hips as they shuddered and swiveled; he licked the wetness dripping onto his lips.  As her walls tightened and her muscles flexed harder, he just licked and licked and licked, faster and faster, until his tongue plunged delightedly into her flower pod and kept plunging.  Lips hugged the moist flower petals.  Daisy was breathing heavily, dripping wet and throbbing.  Her voice repeated his name like a mantra, which only drove him to intensify his efforts.  With each motion of his lips, tongue or both, he grew infinitesimally aroused, stirring to life down below.  But he kept using his mouth, anyway; he’d save the shroom for later.

              “More, Luigi!  More!” shrieked Daisy as he willed his mouth deeper in her core, his tongue probing and seeking to give as much pleasure as possible.  Slurp.  Lick.  Suck.  She held the back of his head in her hands, combing through his bangs.  Her belly rolled against his face, and his nose brushed across it.  He’d never been so hungry for her in his life.  Ravenously, he molded his lips against her flower pod and French-kissed it, drawing his tongue over the clenching, pulsing and throbbing muscles as they began to squeeze against his mouth.  He looked up at her, and she saw the powerful lust in his eyes.  Swirling and squiggling his tongue, flicking it, thrusting it, lips pushing back against her walls.  Sparkles rocketed before Daisy’s eyes, her toes curled, and she shuddered and screamed uncontrollably.

              “God!” she hollered.  “Luigi!  I’m gonna—oh!”

              He held her tighter against his mouth, almost as if to glue her flower pot there, and lifted her off the couch.  Timing his licks with his steps, he carried her upstairs to her bedroom.  The Flower Princess soon found herself pressed against the door with his tongue still sheathed inside her.  She writhed against the door like a belly-dancer, moaning.  After about ten minutes of eating her out, Luigi paused, shifted her legs to hug his waist, and kissed her lips before opening the door and carrying her to her bed.

              “Please,” she breathed as he inserted two fingers in her.  “Please…”

              Luigi smiled and kissed her breasts.

              “Oooohh…”

              While his fingers pumped in a steady rhythm, his free hand reached to the dresser and took a bottle of lotion—a different kind this time, supposedly better than the other kind.  His thumb flipped open the top, and it wasn’t long before the creamy lotion spilled onto her body, the sensitivity of her skin increasing even before he started rubbing it in with the free hand.  One hand pumping her core, the other massaging her—her mind didn’t know which ecstatic feeling to focus on.  Her walls closed in on his hand, which only made him pump faster.  The lotion was also safe to use down there, so he withdrew his hand, applied two thick squiggles two it and coated his fingers and palm before smoothly sliding the hand back in.  Daisy’s body jerked, and she shouted, echoing in the moonlit, starlit and candlelit room.

              “Aaaaah—Oh—Lu…”

              He wrapped his warm mouth around her left breast and suckled slowly, his fingers going so deep—

              “Mmmmm….”

              This continued for a good twenty minutes or so before he switched to her right breast, his body starting to shudder with hers.

              “Luigi…please…I need to…”

              Another twenty or so minutes elapsed before he kissed down the valley between her breasts, down her stomach, and then to her flower pod, where his fingers still pumped.  Daisy closed her eyes.  His mouth felt good, and so did his fingers, but now he was about to bring both into play—

              “Hang on, Daisy,” he said before his mouth joined his fingers in the game.

              Daisy gripped her bedsheets and screamed.  His hot, moist mouth.  His probing tongue.  His flexing fingers.  All she knew was pleasure.  She was literally flopping on the bed, flopping and sweating.  She held it in, though, held it in till she couldn’t take anymore, until she was throbbing like a heartbeat and gushing.  And her plumber was still going despite his own aching groin, equally determined to hold it in.  He gave his tongue a break after a few more licks and simply blew, slowly and softly, inside her, while his fingers worked harder than ever.  And finally, he wriggled his fingers out, kissed her mound one last time and inched his body over hers.

              “L—I love you,” whispered Daisy.

              “I love you more,” murmured Luigi before easily slipping his mushroom in.

# Soothe me, soothe me, soothe me, soothe me, soothe me…

 **Soothe me, baby, soothe me**  
Soothe me with your kindness  
Though you know your powerful loving is  
Soothing to me, one more time

 **Oh, how I used to rumble and how I used to roam**  
**Oh since I met this baby I'm mad  
And all I want do is stay at home, at home**

              As the love ballad played and the candles flickered in the room, Luigi took her sweetly, with slow, languid thrusts, kissing her lips and whispering romantic, reassuring things.  Warm, sweaty bodies slid soulfully against each other, moans permeating the air.  His thumb and forefinger encircled her pink buds and massaged them, sending more thrills shooting down her nerves.  Rolling, undulating hips.  Pelvis playing with pelvis, a sensual game.  Certain things growing harder and harder while other certain things grew wetter and wetter.  Whispers, gasps, sighs.  Kisses, touches, thrusts.  Need.  Love.

              Daisy dribbled slightly as she threw her arms around Luigi.  “Getting—closer…” she managed to say.

              “Me, too…” murmured Luigi, squirting some more lotion onto his Princess and rubbing it in using circular motions, timing them with his thrusts.

              That was it for Daisy.  Her flower petals grabbed onto his shroom and didn’t let go.

              It took five wonderful minutes for her to finally come undone.

 **Soothe me, baby, soothe me**  
Soothe me with your kindness  
Though you know your powerful loving is  
Soothing to me, over here

 **I used to hire a lot of girls**  
Had them big and small  
Since I've met this baby of mine  
I don't want no other girl at all

              Luigi’s hips gave one final shudder before he, too, erupted.  His love poured forth, and she sighed, as she always sighed, as he filled her up.  He loved her sighs so much.  As his body continued to shake, he grabbed onto the headboard so he wouldn’t collapse atop her, and his eyes glazed over.  He clamped his lips onto her shoulder, but never his teeth.  He didn’t believe in that stuff.

              She moaned his name, drawing out each syllable.  The way she said it made him stir back to life, even though he was still emptying.  He detached his mouth from her shoulder and kissed her, over and over.

              “Daisy,” he gasped.  “Throughout the turbulence in my life, so many people stood by me.  But do you know what truly kept me from losing it?”

              “What?” queried Daisy.

              Luigi smiled, eyes brimming with tears.  “Your love,” he replied, wetting his lips and kissing her, again, again and again—

**Soothe me, baby, soothe me**   
**Soothe me with your kindness**   
**Though you know your powerful loving is**   
**Soothing to me, now listen to me**

**Soothe me, soothe me, soothe me, soothe me**   
**Soothe me, soothe me, soothe me, soothe me, soothe me**   
**Soothe me, baby, soothe me, soothe me**

**LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              They fell asleep to old-school love ballads playing on her stereo, holding each other snugly.  No nightmares or troubling flashbacks disturbed their rest.  Ask either of them, and they’d tell you that it was the best sleep they’d had in what seemed like years.

              Daisy opened her eyes as the morning sun greeted her with its golden hue, pouring through the window.  Smiling, she sat up and stretched, ready to embrace a new day.  Next to her, Luigi also stirred, rubbing his eyes.  She leaned down and kissed him.

              “Morning,” she said.

              “Morning,” he whispered.

              They inhaled the scent of breakfast foods being prepared in the kitchen.

              “You know,” said Daisy.  “My cooks can make a mean breakfast.  How about you eat here instead of there?”

              “Sure,” said Luigi.

              “Today’s Laundry Day,” she went on, “so, I have to change the bedsheets.  Wanna jump in the shower while I—get the laundry ready?”

              “Good idea,” smiled Luigi, kissing her again and rolling out of bed.

              Daisy smirked and then took her old sweet time stripping the old linen from the bed and then putting on fresh linen.  She then took the old linen and tossed it into the laundry chute, and then paused to select various lotions and gels for use in the shower.

              She stripped naked and tiptoed into the bathroom, gazing at Luigi’s silhouette behind the shower curtains.  The running water barely drowned out his moans as he—

              “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting,” she said, sliding open the curtains and carefully stepping into the shower with him.

              Luigi looked up, blushing.  Daisy smiled and examined his length, noticing that he’d clamped some sort of ring around it.  She now took the time to carefully remove the ring and discard it.  Luigi heaved a deep sigh as the pressure was relieved.  He slid his arms around her and fondled her, turning her so that she stood under the shower head.  Then, he squeezed her favorite body wash onto a bath sponge and lathered up her body with it.  The suds tickled and relaxed her body.  He spooned her and proceeded to soap up her breasts, her stomach, her thighs, her back, and then his soft, sudsy hands reached her flower pot.

              Daisy braced herself against the wall as he stroked her methodically.  The warm water fountained over her.  The wet environment made this a thousand times more pleasurable.  He slowly spun her around and claimed her lips before kissing her soapy body.  He marveled at the creamy lather on her before dropping to his knees and introducing a considerably wet mouth.

              The sounds of wet slurps filled the shower, but they still couldn’t muffle the _sounds_ Daisy made.  He drew his tongue along her core, slower than he did the other night, allowing the shower water to trickle inside.  Her walls were like bellows, heaving in and out.  They were both directly underneath the shower, its warm water spouting onto their bodies.  Daisy’s fingers scrabbled for purchase against the slick shower wall, but Luigi helped hold her in place.  His licks turned into all-consuming kisses, kisses which took on a cadence as his head bobbed, providing a sloppy chorus to her moans.  Her skin _rippled_.  The water and suds caressed her.  She squeezed her eyes shut and screamed everything out as his mouth peppered her insides with indescribable bliss.

              He brought her to the edge, and then back, and then again, and then back, and then again.  She was right at the critical moment when he withdrew completely and stood.  Daisy took the time to get a sponge of her own nice and soapy, and then she set to work washing her beloved.  He went limp against her touch and allowed her to lather his body like he lathered hers.  She knew how he preferred to lather himself up more than once, and so she did just that, slowing her pace on the second lather and giving him a deep clean in the right crevices and the right places, scrubbing the stress and the trauma away.  She did a considerably better job, her touch light, feathery and sensual, teasing him as she lathered lower, lower and lower, taking her time with the hips and pelvis before she—

              “Daisy—oh, _Dio_!” he gasped as she cupped his girth, and he pulsed in her palms.  She ran a finger along him and did the same to the underside before taking him in a firm hand and giving him an expert pump.  And then another.  And another.  And another.  And another.  And another—

              Seconds later, she had him slumped against the shower as she pumped and manipulated him in earnest.  His head was thrown back, open-mouthed gasps escaping him.  She made him keep her pace as he thrust back into her hand.  Gasps turned into deep-throated moans, his mouth still open, his eyes closed.  She pumped so deeply that her hand touched his groin.

              “Gah!  Daisy!  I gotta…”

              She soothed him with a gentle kiss to his neck, observing how Little Luigi resembled his master—tall and lean.  Right now, he was at full attention and twitching erratically, and she responded by pumping deeper and faster.

              Just as he was starting to leak, Daisy stopped and kissed Luigi’s chin, allowing him to calm down.  His eyes met hers, and she smoothed his hair and kissed his nose, and then his forehead, causing tiny hearts to burst out of him.

              “Mamma mia…” he moaned.

              It was now time to rise away the soap.  As the shower gushed over their bodies, they began using the lotions and gels Daisy procured, making out as they slathered them onto one another.  Finally, they became one, Daisy’s legs around his hips as he plunged into her with everything he had left, savoring every thrust and every sensation and always pulling back before the big moment, so when it finally hit, it would be unforgettable.

              Finally, Luigi buried himself deep against her, yelling her name.  She squealed his, and they shuddered together as the wave crashed over them both, creating a lovely mess easily washed away by the shower.  This time, his love filled her to overflowing, and it was so thick and so toasty warm that she sagged in his arms.

              They held each other until he sputtered out, and then they finished their shower with meaningful kisses before turning off the water and stepping out.  Soft towels awaited them, which they wrapped around their bodies before padding their way back to Daisy’s chambers.  Then, they dried off and fixed their hair.

              “L—could you—lay on your stomach for me?” asked Daisy, now dressed in an orange robe.

              “Okay,” said Luigi, stretching out on the freshly made bed. 

              Daisy took a bottle of lavender-scented lotion, applied it to Luigi’s back and then rubbed it in, her motions imitating the waves flowing in and out.  She kneaded his shoulder blades like a professional chiropractor and gently massaged the back of his neck.  After forty-five minutes of these ministrations, she turned him over, and it began again.  Then, she massaged his face, hands and feet, and then his scalp.

              “Nice and relaxed now?” she asked.

              Luigi hummed his assent.  “My turn,” he said.

              Daisy dropped her robe and slid into the bed as her plumber vacated it, laying on her stomach.  He trailed a line of kisses down her spine before getting out the lotion and rubbing it in deep, starting with her shoulders and moving down to her waist, and then moving back up.  She sighed as he lightly kneaded her sides and trailed two fingers up and down the back of her neck.  Forty-five minutes later, she was laying on her back as he massaged her feet, then her legs and arms and finally her torso and face.

              At long last, the massage was done.  Daisy sat up and smiled at her love as he dressed in his usual green getup.

              “Ready to take on another day?” she asked as she slid out of bed to get dressed, as well.

              “Oh, yeah,” he intoned.  “Let’s-a go!”

 **I was born by the river in a little tent**  
 **Oh, and just like the river I've been running ever since**  
  
**It's been a long, a long time coming**  
 **But I know a change gon' come, oh yes it will**  
  
**It's been too hard living, but I'm afraid to die**  
 **'Cause I don't know what's up there beyond the sky**  
  
**It's been a long, a long time coming**  
 **But I know a change gon' come, oh yes it will**  
  
**I go to the movie and I go down town**  
 **Somebody keep telling me don't hang around**  
  
**It's been a long, a long time coming**  
 **But I know a change gon' come, oh yes it will**  
  
**Then I go to my brother**  
 **And I say, "Brother, help me please."**  
 **But he winds up knockin' me**  
 **Back down on my knees**  
  
**There been times that I thought I couldn't last for long**  
 **But now I think I'm able to carry on**  
  
**It's been a long, a long time coming**  
 **But I know a change gon' come, oh yes it will…**

  


  



	80. Epilogue: L vs World

**I've been running through rain**  
**That I thought would never end**  
 **Trying to make it on faith**  
 **In a struggle against the wind**  
 **I've seen the dark and the broken places**  
 **But I know in my soul**  
 **No matter how bad it gets**  
 **I'll be alright**

 **There's hope in front of me**  
**There's a light, I still see it**  
 **There's a hand still holding me**  
 **Even when I don't believe it**  
 **I might be down but I'm not dead**  
 **There's better days still up ahead**  
 **Even after all I've seen**  
 **There's hope in front of me**

 **There's a place at the end of the storm**  
**You finally find**  
 **Where the hurt and the tears and the pain**  
 **All fall behind**

 **You open up your eyes and up ahead**  
**There's a big sun shining**  
 **Right then and there you realize**  
 **You'll be alright**

 **There's hope in front of me**  
**There's a light, I still see it**  
 **There's a hand still holding me**  
 **Even when I don't believe it**  
 **I might be down but I'm not dead**  
 **There's better days still up ahead**  
 **Even after all I've seen**  
 **There's hope in front of me**

 **There's a hope still burning**  
**I can feel it rising through the night**  
 **And my world's still turning**  
 **I can feel your love here by my side**

 **You're my hope**  
**You're the light, I still see it**  
 **Your hands are holding me**  
 **Even when I don't believe it**  
 **I've got to believe**  
 **I still have hope**  
 **You are my hope**

**\--Danny Gokey, “Hope in Front of Me”**

_**Several weeks later…** _

              Luigi stood in the locker room, admiring his reflection.  He was clad in his Fire Flower uniform, the white shirt and green overalls lighting him up like a flashlight.  Currently, he ran a comb through his brown hair, using some hair cream to tame it into a sleek look.  Then, he took the white cap with the green “L” on it and slid it atop his head.

              Ready for action.

              “Hey, Bro!” greeted Mario as he walked in, also wearing his Fire Flower getup.  “You ready?”

              Luigi nodded.  “You know I am!”

              A Team Battle was up ahead, and the opponents were the fiercest yet.  The Bros had spent the other day psyching themselves up for it, training for it and strategizing for it, and now, just minutes away from their appointment with their foes, they weren’t about to back down.

              “You know, I’m counting on you, L,” Mario said softly, putting an arm around his baby bro as they studied themselves in the mirror.

              “Just as I’m counting on you, Bro,” intoned Luigi, and he meant it.  Whether it was a perilous mission to rescue the Princess, taking on a tough clog or facing down vicious haters, bullies, cyberbullies and trolls, the man in green always looked to his brother for support at the end of the day.  However envious he was of his older brother’s fame, however serious their brotherly squabbles, Luigi credited Mario for pulling him back from the brink of self-destruction and reminding him why he truly loved his life, regardless of its curveballs.

              Mario turned, smiling at Luigi.  “Hey, you wanna know something?” he asked.

              “Yeah?”

              “For seventeen years, I’ve been the unofficial Smash spokesperson and third-in-command, trying to hold everyone and everything together,” said Mario, “but—truth is— _you_ held _me_ together.  I wouldn’t have done any of this or have gone this far in the tournament without you, Lil’ Bro.  Kudos.”

              “Wow,” breathed Luigi.

              “I just want you to know that you’re loved,” Mario went on.  “You’re appreciated.  And even though you get barely any credit, you’re as much of a hero as me.  You’re number one in my book.”

              “Bro,” sniffled Luigi.  “I can’t thank you enough.  You’ve saved me so many times.”

              “You saved me, too,” confessed Mario.  “Twice from eternal imprisonment, and from falling apart after Crazy Hand nerfed Peach.  I—can’t count the number of times we’ve saved each other.”

              “Yeah,” Luigi said softly.  “We’re the best team out there.”

              “And don’t worry about Daisy,” smiled Mario.  “There’s a big buzz about the Nintendo Switch and whether or not it’s gonna host a new Smash tournament.  So—we’ll see.”

              Luigi beamed at Mario.  “I’ll never stop hoping.  Never.”

              The Bros shared a poignant bear hug, and then separated, gazing intently into each other’s eyes.

              “Let’s-a go!” proclaimed Mario, pumping a determined fist.

              “Okeydokey!” Luigi chimed in, also pumping a fist.

              They exchanged a brofist and exited the locker room side-by-side, ready for this battle—and the battles ahead of them.

#  **LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL**

              In Sarasaland, Princess Daisy was enjoying some downtime from her royal duties when one of her constituents approached.  “Your Majesty,” greeted the constituent.

              Daisy turned.  “Oh!  Hey, Chrysanthemum!” she said brightly.  “How are you?”

              “Been better,” said Chrys.  “How about you?”

              “Very well, thank you.”

              “My old friend, Cerena, told me to give this to you,” Chrys explained, handing Daisy an envelope.  “We roomed together in college.”

              “How’s she doing?” asked Daisy as she opened the envelope.

              “She’s living her life,” replied Chrys.  “I hear she’s fallen for the Wii Fit Trainer.”

              “Really?  I think those ladies are a good match, if it’s not too bold to say,” smiled Daisy.  “Thanks, Chrys.  And God bless you.”

              “Ditto,” Chrys smiled back, curtsying to Daisy and taking her leave.

              Daisy unfolded the letter and began to read:

_Your Majesty,_

_I hope things are going well for you.  As you may have known, the rumors of a new Nintendo console have become reality with the introduction of the Nintendo Switch.  There’s already a Super Mario game planned for it!  But that’s not the reason I’m writing.  I’ve heard through the grapevine that a brand-new Smash tournament may come to the Switch, and many gamers have their fingers crossed that their favorite characters will make the roster.  I think that due to your tomboyishness and what you’ve survived, you have high potential as a Smasher, no matter what anyone else says.  Once these new speculations turn into hard facts, I’ll put in a good word for you._

_Maybe we can do lunch sometime.  Long live Sarasaland!_

_Sincerely,_

_Cerena Cydney Sparks_

              Daisy slipped the letter into the pocket of her dress and looked out over her kingdom, a big smile on her face.  “Thank you, Cere,” she whispered.  “I’ll never stop hoping, and I’ll never stop fighting.  I swear it.”

              Perhaps she could show Smash her stuff, after all…

# LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

##  **_The next afternoon…_ **

              Master Hand sat in his office, going over some paperwork, when the phone rang.

              “Hello?”

              “Hey, Master Hand,” said Luigi’s voice.  “How are things?”

              “Better than expected, with two tournament heads instead of three,” replied Master, “but we have Mario and Peach helping out.  What are you up to?”

              “I’m on the tennis court, practicing,” replied Luigi.  “There’s another tennis tournament coming up, and I want to shine out there.”

              “I’m sure you will,” beamed Master.

              “You—really think that?”

              “Yup.  I believe in you, and so does Master Core.”  Master nodded at MC as he floated into the office, carrying two mugs of hot chocolate.

              “Hey, Luigi,” said MC after Master gave him the phone.  “You sound better off than you were a year ago.”

              “That’s because I’m officially in a good place,” said Luigi.  “Nothing can bother me now.”

              “Master Hand and I see the improvement in each match you’ve fought,” praised MC.  “We’re happy you’ve come to your senses, L.”

              “And I’m happy we’re back on speaking terms—for good,” smiled Luigi.  “Speaking of which, I just had my first session with my psychiatrist.  Her name’s Dr. Park, and she’s very good.  I’m glad Dr. Mario recommended her.”

              “So are we,” said MC.  “We’ve heard nothing but praise about her.  Did you know that Dr. Mario mentored her when she first started out?”

              “Wow,” breathed Luigi.  “I guess everything happens for a reason.”

              “Indeed,” chuckled MC.  “We’re glad you’re doing well, and we’ll keep praying for you.”

              “I appreciate that.”

              “Be back by sundown.  You’re scheduled for an 8-man match at 4:30.”

              “You got it,” said Luigi.

              “God be with you, L,” said MC.

              “Didn’t Master say you were an atheist?” asked Luigi.

              MC smiled.  “Just covering all the bases,” he said smartly before handing the phone back to his son.

              “An eight-man match, really?” asked Luigi.  “You must be desperate to keep me busy.”

              “Trust me, it’ll be good for you,” cracked Master Hand.  “Eight man frays are usually when Smashers let out their aggression and frustration.”

              “You know I can’t pass up 8-man battles,” laughed Luigi.  “Don’t worry; I’ll be done with tennis practice before too long.”

              “Don’t quote me on this, but the spectators love it when you’re involved in my 8-man matches,” admitted Master.

              “No way,” breathed Luigi.

              “It’s true,” said Master.  “The days when they laughed at you, heckled you and mocked you are a lifetime ago.”

              “Aw—that makes me feel better,” gushed Luigi.  “Oh, and I heard about Cerena putting in a good word for Daisy, should there be a new tournament for the Switch.  She’s such a saint.”

              Master nodded.  “She’s a fine chief financier.  She has our best interests at heart.”

              “You can say that again,” nodded Luigi.  “Well, Master Hand, I’d love to stay and chat with you longer, but…”  He cast a pointed, acidic look across the tennis court, towards a certain purple-clothed foil and rumored romantic rival.  “…I have some unfinished business to settle with an old friend.  Bye.”

              “Luigi?” questioned Master Hand.  “Luigi, what do you m…”

              _Click._

              Master Hand and Master Core sat there in silence.  There was something unsettling in Luigi’s tone as he spoke those last words.  And when he was talking about “unfinished business”…

              “This dance with him will never end, will it?” Master Hand finally asked.

              “It never will,” MC replied, resigned.  “That’s elementary, my dear Master Hand.”

              And on the tennis court, Luigi, the one and only mustachioed man in green, smacked his tennis racket against his palm as he met Waluigi’s sneering expression.  This tennis match was going to be anything but pretty…

# FIN?

             


End file.
